Dissonance
by Daenar
Summary: To solve a case Harm has to rely on his musicality - with Mac going undercover in a naval college marching band. Set after the events of 'Carnival'. Warning! Do not read if you're not a major shipper (H/M)!
1. Chapter one

Title: 'Dissonance' Author: Daenar (daenarchurill@hotmail.com) Rating: PG-13, Romance (H/M), Humor, Crime  
  
Disclaimer: JAG is property of Bellisarius Productions, 'The night will only know' is performed by Garth Brooks, produced by Allen Reynolds and owned by EMI, no copyright infringement intended  
  
Spoiler: To solve a case, Harm has to rely on his musicality - with Mac going undercover in a naval college marching band. Complications all- inclusive... Independent case, though the storyline is set after the events of 'Carnival'. It won't be necessary to read 'Carnival' to understand 'Dissonance'.  
  
Archiving: Feel free, but let me know, please.  
  
Author's note: I'm a musicologist and music-addicted in every respect. Ever since I'm a JAGnik, I am disappointed to see that Harm's musical skills have never really been brought into focus by the series. That's what I'm trying to do now.  
  
DISSONANCE  
  
  
  
Tue, May 5th 2327 ZULU JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA  
  
  
  
"Sir, I'm not sure I can do this." Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. looked up from the file Admiral AJ Chegwidden had just handed him. Was that actually fear in the normally audacious ex-aviator's eyes? AJ wondered. He had expected Harm to be surprised - to say the least - when he told him of the nature of this assignment. Reluctance had also been a possibility AJ had considered. But fear? After all, this was one of the easier tasks, at least as far as he could tell. A few days' preparation, a few hours of action, not having to travel... 'Heck, Rabb should be grateful that he gets an easy task!' AJ frowned. He would try being nice. If it wouldn't work, he'd order him.  
  
"Harm, Webb tells me he's very aware that four days of preparation is extremely last-minute, but the date's set as it is. He says you're the only one who could possibly take over in such a short time. And although the CIA's in charge, it's up to you, Commander, to save the Navy's honor. Army, Air Force, Marine Corps, the Pentagon and the Foreign Office, Congress, Senate, hell, even the FBI's involved! Don't let us down, Harm, even Webb says that he'll owe you. Consider that one!" AJ had to chuckle despite the situation.  
  
"Who am I replacing and why, sir?" Harm asked wearily. He could see plainly that AJ had made up his mind to once again grant Webb his assistance. And he, like so many other times, was the victim. If only they were able to go in as a pair - with Mac at his side everything would be easier. But this was clearly a one-man operation. Damn.  
  
"The person's identity is classified. I don't even know why. I only know the person in question committed suicide. Motive? Classified." This time AJ's frown met one of mutual solidarity on Harm's face. Undersecretary of State Clayton Webb just loved to classify everything.  
  
"And they really couldn't think of anyone else to pull it off, sir?" Harm asked without much hope.  
  
"No. But, anyway, what's the problem, Harm? You've done things like this before, haven't you?" AJ tried to sound encouraging while thanking God that he wasn't in Harm's position right now.  
  
"I have, sir," Harm reluctantly conceded, "But never with so many people. I've worked with groups of five, maybe ten, but never with as many as eighty. I'm not experienced in this kind of thing."  
  
"I can make this an order, Commander."  
  
Harm sighed, exasperated. "I'll do my very best, sir. But I swear, Webb will owe me big."  
  
"You'll do just fine. I have great confidence in you, Rabb. Take the rest of the week off to prepare." AJ smiled and rose.  
  
Harm lifted himself from his chair, tugged the file under his arm and came to attention. "Aye, aye, sir."  
  
"Dismissed."  
  
Harm turned and left his C.O., frowning. He headed straight for his office to get his things and go home.  
  
As he sat down at his desk to shut down his computer, Harm saw the message icon blinking. On opening the email, a smile spread over his face.  
  
To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com) Subject: Feeding a hungry marine Hey flyboy, Had to leave early for the dentist (ughh!). You knew that anyway. How about you prepare some pasta that I'll be able to chew as soon as the drugs wear off? Your place at 1900? Call me if there's a problem. If I don't hear from you until 1845 (sharp!!), count on me to show up. Love you! Mac  
  
'I can't wait,' Harm thought, grinning, feeling his heartbeat accelerate slightly. Ever since their return from Venice, they had spent all their evenings and most of their nights together. Communication was mostly conducted by private email as they still hadn't told anyone that they were an item. They were sure Chegwidden suspected something - after all, he had practically ordered them to get involved - but surely no one else did. "Not even Harriet," Harm chuckled under his breath. He and Mac had been discreet to an extent that he would never have thought possible, given their emotions. But on the other hand keeping it secret and keeping people wondering what the colonel and the commander might or might not feel for one another only added to the suspense.  
  
'Suspense - we sure have plenty of that,' Harm thought. Always respecting their agreement not to rush into anything, working on overcoming their fears first and taking time to explore their love was getting to be a torment at times. Whenever he and Mac were together the tension was sure to rise immediately. More than once they had been on the verge of giving in to passion and had been saved only by outside influence, like the telephone or pizza delivery.  
  
But eventually they had figured out a way to stay as close as they considered safe, rejoicing in each other's company, in the caresses they exchanged and, most of all, in their wonderful friendship that, to their enormous relief, hadn't suffered from their involvement as they had feared it would. On the contrary, it had deepened. Harm had never been happier than he had been these last nine weeks, his Sarah's loving presence adding a dimension to his life that he hadn't even known existed.  
  
At night, when she was sleeping in his arms, he would catch himself looking at her, still unable to fully believe that he wasn't dreaming. And Mac seemed to flourish in their relationship. Harm hadn't thought it possible, but she was becoming more beautiful every day. Not only to him. Their friends and colleagues, he knew, were wondering about the gradual changes that were taking place within her. She seemed to light the room when she entered. And in spite of the as yet unresolved tension between them, he was enjoying a totally new inward calmness, as if he had found a permanent home. 'I have,' he admitted to himself, smiling, 'With her.'  
  
As much as he longed to take the next step, to let physical union follow the spiritual unison they already shared, Harm knew he could wait until the time was right. They both felt it would be more than just their first time sleeping together. It was more like their first time ever, never having shared this moment with someone they loved as much as they loved each other.  
  
Tearing himself from his thoughts, he switched off his computer, took the files he needed and left the office. 'Do I have everything for that pasta she wants?' he asked himself while waiting for the elevator. Deciding he didn't need to do any more shopping, he quickly got to his SUV and headed home, whistling, thinking of Mac.  
  
  
  
2400 ZULU Harm's apartment North of Union Station Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
Pressing an ice bag to her swollen cheek, Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, in loose sweats, ascended the stairs to her partner's apartment. 'Just a tiny incision - ha ha,' Mac thought, trying to ignore the pain that kept increasing as the painkillers were wearing off. She had gotten more than she had bargained for at the dentist's. Feeling a slight sensitivity to heat and cold up on the right, she had resolved to have her teeth looked over. But instead of a hole the dentist had discovered a purulent inflammation underneath a lower left molar which hadn't started to hurt yet but would have in a few days. So she had agreed to have it taken care of immediately. 'Big mistake,' she scolded herself, knowing at the same time that the dentist had been right. At least she had Harm to console and comfort her.  
  
Upon arrive at his door, she stopped in her tracks and listened. A beautiful, sad melody found its way to her ear, slowly telling of longing and love. Harm was obviously playing his guitar, something he hadn't done in quite a long time and never for her. Knowing she couldn't eat for a while anyway, Mac leaned to the door, not daring to make any noise, only listening to his music.  
  
She could tell it was a rather difficult piece that he was practicing. He would interrupt himself at four or five crucial points, repeating and repeating the difficult passages until he had mastered them. The melody had a Spanish feel with Flamenco styles that - Mac could tell without knowing much about music - required skilled handiwork on the chords. She rested her head against the wall, closed her eyes and let Harm enchant her with his play.  
  
About fifteen minutes later Harm interrupted his practice and Mac heard her cell-phone ring.  
  
"Open your door, flyboy," she said instead of a greeting.  
  
"How long have you been there, Mac?" She immediately noticed the concern in his voice.  
  
"Sixteen minutes and twenty-three seconds," she answered with a smile.  
  
"Oh my God," she only heard him say before the line went dead and the apartment door opened to reveal a very embarrassed Harm.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Mac, I must have missed the doorbell," he started to excuse himself. "I was practicing on my guitar, but that's strange, I should have heard it. Why didn't you use your key, honey?" Putting one hand on hers that was holding the ice bag, Harm gently embraced her and pulled her inside the apartment, closing the door. "Hurt much?"  
  
"Won't kill me," Mac retorted, making a face. "What was that music, sailor? It's beautiful."  
  
"Joaquín Rodrigo, guitar concerto, second movement, soloist's part, but again, Mac, why didn't you come in if you don't feel well?" Harm, with a concerned frown, gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.  
  
Mac smiled. It felt so good to be cared for. "I didn't want to disturb you."  
  
"Mac, you..."  
  
"Let me finish. I was so engrossed by your music that I completely forgot about my pain or that you would be worried when I didn't show up on time. Any reason you took out your guitar today, squid? You play wonderfully, you know that?"  
  
Harm smiled, embarrassed. "Not as well as I should. But I'm working on it. When I got home I felt I needed the distraction."  
  
As she saw the deep frown on his face Mac was on high alert. "What's up?"  
  
"Webb."  
  
'Not again...' Mac thought, exasperated. "Care to share?"  
  
"Can't, I'm sorry."  
  
"Let me guess: classified," she laughed, a little trace of bitterness shining though her laughter.  
  
"Yup. One-man mission in a really big scenario, only four days at home to prepare myself. I'm filling in for someone. Sunday's the day," he explained casually.  
  
Mac looked at him with her huge brown eyes. "Whatever it is you're doing, promise me to be careful, okay? No stunts. I still need you around," she pleaded. "Are you going away?"  
  
"Thankfully, no," he replied with a smile. Then he looked into her eyes and said: "I promise you, Mac, there's absolutely nothing to worry about. It's not a routine mission, but I won't be in danger. Trust me."  
  
"Okay..." Mac didn't really sound convinced but she accepted his promise. "Just afraid I won't get you back in one piece, flyboy," she said with a loving smile.  
  
Harm smiled back. "That won't happen." As if to seal the promise, he very tenderly kissed her on the lips, careful to the sore side of her face. "Are you hungry? Okay, rhetorical question. Are you very hungry, Marine?"  
  
Mac gave him the sweetest mixture of a smile and a grimace. "Yeah, but I won't be able to eat for another hour. Why don't you distract me a little with your music practice while I rest on your couch?"  
  
Harm grinned. "I'm flattered. Of course, if you want me to. Only tell me when fifty minutes are over so I can get the pasta done as well."  
  
"Count on my internal clock and my growling stomach," she replied, laughing. "They won't forget your request even if I do."  
  
Harm shook his head, chuckling, and sat down again on his chair, taking up his guitar and staring at the score that lay open on the floor next to him. Then he closed his eyes, concentrating, and seemed to memorize what he had just studied. Upon opening his eyes again he lifted his gaze to fix on an indefinite object at the far side of the loft and began to play. Mac just sat and watched in awe. It was as if Harm and his and his guitar melted into one, his fingers seeming to dance on the finger board or pluck the cords without effort.  
  
The piece began to inspire her imagination. She saw pictures of a mild summer's night with stars and a full moon in some far-off country, flanked by the waves of the Mediterranean. Mac could almost feel the warm night breeze as the flowering scales of the melody surrounded her. She felt the longing of a loving heart calling out to its beloved. Like Harm was reaching out for her. Mac was totally swept away by Harm's interpretation. By instinct Harm always guessed the right amount of speed variation, applying or omitting ornaments, so that the music lost nothing of its emotional potential, yet always remaining humble and clear. Mac was so lost in listening that she literally jumped when he interrupted himself, frowning and swearing quietly, to consult the score when he couldn't remember how to go on.  
  
All too soon she had to remember her promise. "Sorry to interrupt you, Maestro, but your fifty minutes are up."  
  
Harm cast her a warm smile and put the guitar down. Stretching for a moment, he lifted himself to full height and then headed to the kitchen. Mac rose and took a seat at the counter to watch him working, knowing he wouldn't let her help.  
  
"That's so incredible. They lost an artist when they let you join the navy," she observed, smiling.  
  
"Mac, don't!" he shouted, laughing and blushing slightly. "Never give a musician too much praise. Or he'll stop practicing."  
  
She joined in his laughter. "But you deserved it." Her expression sobered. "I only wish that there had been a time and place for music in my childhood. But then," her smile returned, though somewhat strained, "Who knows if I'm even musical."  
  
"You are," he stated quietly, looking at her with a sincere expression in his eyes.  
  
"What makes you say so?" she inquired.  
  
"Well, firstly, remember our round dance in Venice. If there was one person in the room who placed the steps on the right beat, always anticipating any 'accelerando' or 'ritardando' in the interpretation..."  
  
"Any what?"  
  
"Sorry," he excused himself with an embarrassed smile. "Musicians tend to talk in code. Like pilots."  
  
"What surprise..." she murmured with a cocked eyebrow.  
  
"Anyway, 'accelerando' means accelerating and 'ritardando' means slowing down," he explained, unperturbed. "And you just knew what the band would do and sped up or slowed down your own steps to stay on the beat. That's a sure sign of musicality, if there's any, Mac. And besides," his grin became a little nasty, "I hear it when you sing in the shower. Intonation's perfect." He ducked in time to have a flying grape miss him. It hit the sink.  
  
"Hey!" he protested. "That's praise coming from a gifted musician." Another grape hit his forehead.  
  
"Tell me, flyboy," Mac considered it wise to change the subject to some degree, "Do you normally memorize something before you play? I don't really know much about music, but don't you usually play while you read the music?"  
  
"Normally you do, yes," he acknowledged, "Orchestra players always do. Or the members of a big band. Or in classical chamber music. But for instance many jazz musicians don't 'cause they tend to improvise. And soloists in instrumental concertos normally don't, either. You know, it's like being on an opera stage. You tell the piece's story, with the orchestra following your lead. You wouldn't wanna do that with your nose stuck in the score, right? You've got more room left in your thoughts to express your feelings if you don't have to read while playing."  
  
"Right. Sounds convincing. So, now that I've learned something, are you gonna feed me, squid?" Mac took plates and cutlery from the cupboards and went over to the table.  
  
"Okay," Harm said, laughing. He was glad to have Mac at his side right now. She helped him chase away the uneasy feeling he had in his gut when he thought about Clay's secret one-man assignment. Mac's presence was comforting, and she was so cute when she ordered him to 'feed' her. He just loved her when she did it. But then - didn't he always love her?  
  
  
  
Wed, May 6th 1617 ZULU JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA  
  
  
  
"Attention on deck!" Petty Officer Jason Tiner yelled as he saw AJ emerge from the elevator. Everyone in the bullpen jumped to their feet and came to attention. AJ strode in the direction of his office, a young man in a foreign navy officer's uniform following in his tracks. In front of his door AJ turned and addressed his personnel. "At ease. Lt. Sims, get me Col. Mackenzie."  
  
"Aye, sir." Lieutenant Harriet Sims-Roberts hurried from her desk to the only office that had all the blinds closed, Mac obviously being on the phone with someone. She knocked and waited.  
  
"Come in," came a muffled voice from the inside.  
  
Harriet stuck her head between the door and the doorpost. "Ma'am, the admiral requests your presence immediately." She gave Mac a quick wink and a smile which Mac returned, asking herself if Harriet suspected whom she was on the phone with.  
  
"I'll be right with you, thank you, Lieutenant." The head of the young blonde disappeared and Mac quickly turned her attention back to the person on the other end of the line. "I gotta go, Harm. Admiral's calling."  
  
He could hear her smile. "Go, Marine. Love you!"  
  
"Love you, too, flyboy." Mac hung up the receiver and stepped into the bullpen. Taking a quick look around, she suddenly froze and stared.  
  
Harriet noticed the colonel's amazement at seeing the foreign officer. Did she know him?  
  
Mac inwardly scolded herself for losing her composure. She shot the young man a quick smile and expectantly faced the admiral who was fighting hard to hide his smirk at her reaction. Then he took a close look at Mac's jaw that on one side was all black and blue, only badly hidden by her make-up.  
  
"What happened to you, Colonel?"  
  
"Dentist, sir," was all she said.  
  
"Want me to sue him?" AJ asked with an upraised eyebrow.  
  
Mac suppressed a giggle. "Not necessary, sir. He got to know my right hook."  
  
"Ouch," Chegwidden stated dryly. Then he cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, with Lt. Roberts still working hard in rehab and Cmdr. Imes currently assigned to the Great Lakes office we are rather short on personnel. So I was very pleased to hear that several years after the last... inspiring experience with the officers exchange program," he cast Mac a hint of a look as everybody slightly winced at the allusion to Mic Brumby, "It's once again our turn to welcome an addition to our team." By now Chegwidden's smile was genuine again. Mac succeeded in banishing any thoughts of Mic from her mind.  
  
The admiral continued: "Let me present a promising young lawyer. He has been assigned to us to get to know our work and help us out a little while Roberts and Imes are away."  
  
Mac saw Harriet's face cloud as it always did when her husband's dreadful injury was mentioned. Well, at least Bud finally seemed to have gotten over his fatalism about being disabled. Harriet's news that she was expecting another child had finally broken through the walls he had built around himself. Sure, Bud had tried to get back on track as soon as he had been released from the hospital and had learned to manage his life with only one leg. But he had grown more cold and distant to everyone each day, grown more cold and distant each day, knowing that he would have to deal with his memories if he opened up. He had cut down rehab exercises to the minimum as if he had wanted to forget the physical consequences of the blast.  
  
Seeing Harriet at the verge of losing it all to her despair on the revelation that she was pregnant must have made something click in Bud's head. He had instantly taken leave and gone to a reputed long-term rehab institution in Massachusetts and was working harder than any of them had ever thought possible.  
  
Exchanging a quick comforting glance with a grateful Harriet, Mac turned her attention back to the admiral who went on, "The newest member of our team just arrived all the way from Italy and has been telling me ever since I met with him how eager he is to get to know everyone. This is Lieutenant, j.g. Federico Prumetti, former Venice Port Authority's liaisons officer."  
  
Prumetti bowed slightly in his unique old-fashioned way, smiling and silently greeting everyone as he listened to the admiral's introductions. Chegwidden went on. "Lieutenant, let me introduce you to my staff. You already know Col. Mackenzie." Mac exchanged a heartfelt smile with her and Harm's friend from their last abroad mission while the admiral stepped over to the two officers standing next to her.  
  
"This is Commander Sturgis Turner and Lieutenant Commander Alan Mattoni, over here we have Lieutenant Harriet Sims. Lt. Sims's husband, Lt. Bud Roberts, is right now recovering from a very serious landmine accident he suffered a year ago in Afghanistan." A shadow quickly passed over Chegwidden's face - Prumetti presumed this would be the largest extent that the JAG allowed his feelings to be seen.  
  
The admiral went on. "Over there would be the office of Lieutenant Commander Carolyn Imes who currently helps out at Great Lakes." Passing on to a young blonde who seemed to be extremely vexed that she was introduced so late, the admiral said: "This is Lieutenant Lauren Singer." Somehow the Italian lieutenant got the impression that the admiral was less than enthusiastic about her...  
  
"And this is my yeoman, Petty Officer Jason Tiner," the admrial concluded as he stepped over to Tiner's desk near his door. "Uhm," he added quickly, "Just for the record: Cmdr. Rabb's office is over there. Rabb will be here again next week. Lieutenant, you can take Cmdr. Imes's office while you're with us. That will be all for now. Welcome to JAG headquarters and I hope you'll make the most of your stay."  
  
"Thank you very much, sir, I'll do my very best," Prumetti answered. Mac noted with a smirk that everyone started at the Italian lieutenant's superb Edinburgh pronunciation.  
  
All said, Chegwidden turned and vanished into his office. As soon as he was gone Mac would allow her enthusiasm to break through, other people's voices once again beginning to hum. "Fred, now that's great news!" she shouted, walking to properly greet her Mediterranean friend with two near kisses, one on each cheek.  
  
"Colonel, ma'am..." Fred trailed off, embarrassed.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Lieutenant," Mac replied sheepishly. "I was so happy hearing you'd come to work with us that I even forgot we're on duty. Anyway, I'm really, really glad to see you and I'm sure Harm will be as well, as soon as he learns you're here. How long will you be staying?"  
  
"Well, six months for now, ma'am, with an option to make it one year," Fred replied, relaxing a little at her warm welcome.  
  
"Did you bring Claire?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am, and, by the way, she sends her love. She would have liked to come this morning but she has to work."  
  
Mac realized that she had never asked her friend what his fiancée did to earn her life. "Where's she working?"  
  
"Her aunt's got a medical practice in Annapolis."  
  
"She's a doctor?"  
  
"Yes, an obstetrician and a gynecologist. Graduated three months ago in London. In fact, when you first knew her in Venice, she was on grad vacation, ma'am. She'll be doing her practical year here in D.C."  
  
"Schedules fit perfectly, then," Mac observed, still with an enormous smile lighting up her face. "Wait till I tell Harm... or you know what? Let's call him! But first meet your new colleagues and get your stuff into your office. And remember when you call him: Harm isn't on duty right now..." With a wink she took one of the cases a clerk had just brought upstairs and vanished in the direction of Carolyn's deserted office before a dumbfounded Fred could say another word.  
  
"Don't worry, Lieutenant, she's been a little strange of late, but in a way that certainly suits her. Lt. Sims," Harriet extended her hand. Fred took it with a smile.  
  
"Pleased to meet you, ma'am. Definitely," he let his glance wander at Mac's back, "The colonel's changed since I met her in Venice. Any reason, ma'am?"  
  
Harriet gave him a clueless shrug and a genuine smile. "None that we succeeded to figure out yet, Lieutenant. So you know the colonel and Cmdr. Rabb and the admiral from their assignment in Venice?"  
  
Fred nodded. "Yes, ma'am." A suspicion about the nature of Mac's changes had begun to rise in the back of his mind but he kept it hidden. It wasn't up to him to speculate on his future superiors' private life - just that it was a nice thought if they had gotten involved...  
  
Having greeted personally all his future colleagues, at once noting the openly displayed superiority in rank Singer had relished in, Fred entered the office that was to be his for the next months. Mac was occupying herself with the telephone on the desk.  
  
"I programmed Harm's place on speed dial four and my own on five - just in case you might like to feel you had friends. By the way, where are you staying?"  
  
"Claire's aunt has a two-apartment house in Rosslyn. She stays up and Claire and I have the rest of the house to ourselves, ma'am."  
  
"Glad to hear that you're well settled. And Rosslyn's a nice neighborhood. Bud and Harriet used to live there before..." Mac let her voice trail off, not knowing how much she wanted to tell her friend right now of Bud's dreadful fate.  
  
"Lt. Sims's husband stepped on a mine, ma'am?" Fred asked quietly.  
  
"Yeah. Trying to save a kid. Lost one leg and only recently managed to get a grip and get help, physically and emotionally. But he's doing a great job with getting well, now that Harriet's pregnant again," Mac told him, knowing she could rely on Fred's gentlemanlike discretion. "Harriet and Bud are real friends. Their son AJ is Harm's and my godson. They had a daughter, Sarah, but..." Fred saw Mac swallow hard. "She died shortly after birth."  
  
"Quite a load to carry," was the only thing he said, his voice thoughtful and compassionate.  
  
Mac tried to shake off her gloomy mood. "Grab your phone and try out your speed dial, Fred," she encouraged him. He smiled.  
  
"Aye, ma'am."  
  
He pressed speed dial four and switched on the speaker for Mac to hear. On the fourth ring the receiver was picked up.  
  
"Rabb," came Harm's voice from the other side of the line.  
  
"Buongiorno, Comandante," Fred said, smirking. "Come va?" [Good morning, Commander. How are you?]  
  
Silence. Then a tentative "Fred?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"That's a pleasant surprise, Lieutenant!" Harm's voice fully conveyed his flyboy-grin. "Why this unexpected pleasure?"  
  
"Work, sir," Fred said, with a smile to Mac who bit her lip, giggling.  
  
They could hear Harm raise his eyebrows. "Your gondola stolen again, Lieutenant? Do we need to return to Venice? Not that I'd mind..."  
  
'I bet you wouldn't, sailor,' Mac thought, hiding her grin.  
  
"No, sir, this time it'd suffice to go to your office." Fred was beginning to enjoy the conversation.  
  
"Ah... right. And where are you calling from?"  
  
"My office, sir. That is, you know it as Cmdr. Imes's." Quickly switching off the speaker phone, Fred held the receiver off his ear to let out a snort. Mac had long lost her composure at imagining her flyboy's expression.  
  
"?!!??" Harm's silence spoke volumes.  
  
"Fred's participating in the officers exchange program," Mac said, laughing, having snatched the receiver from Fred's hand.  
  
"Wow, this is great! Let me talk to him again please, Mac!"  
  
Fred took the receiver, grinning. The commander hadn't changed a bit. "Yes, sir?"  
  
"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I won't be able to see you until next week. I'm sure Mac told you that I've got a special op on my back. But go out with Mac and me to dinner next Monday, Lieutenant. And bring your fiancée if she's in D.C. That's an order!"  
  
"Aye, aye, sir," Fred replied, laughing, before they said goodbye and he put the receiver down. Just then, Tiner entered the office.  
  
"Lieutenant Prem... Pur..."  
  
"Prumetti," Fred helped an embarrassed Tiner.  
  
"Excuse me, sir, but the admiral wants to see you in the conference room. And you, too, ma'am," he added, noticing that Mac was present.  
  
"Thank you, P.O. Tiner," Fred answered.  
  
"Tiner will do, sir," the yeoman grinned before exiting the office.  
  
"We'd better go at once," Mac said. "JAG HQ, lesson one: Never keep the admiral waiting."  
  
"I see, ma'am." The shared a laugh as they crossed the bullpen.  
  
Upon entering the conference room, they found the rest of the JAG staff already assembled. AJ motioned Mac and Fred to sit down and signaled to Harriet who rose and held up a letter.  
  
"I don't know if any of you remember what this is but I told you when it arrived two months ago. And I told you not to make any plans for Sunday, May 10th. Anyway, this is the confirmation that I was just faxed from Washington Symphony's box office. Sunday morning's the big governmental charity matinee, broadcast live by ZBS, by the way. I don't know anything specific about the program, just that it's all classical, dress whites required, and that the Secnav has all but made it an order for the Navy's flag officers and senior staff to attend."  
  
"And I am making it an order for all of you to go," Chegwidden cut in. "We've a reputation to maintain that the JAG Corps always turns up one big family."  
  
Everybody was snickering or at least grinning at his remark. Harriet continued: "So I got tickets for all of us for Sunday 1100 at the Kennedy Center. I suggest we meet at the main entrance at 1030. Is there anybody who can't come except Cmdr. Rabb?"  
  
"Sir, I'm leaving for Pensacola tomorrow," Singer addressed AJ, unsure if to be glad to show her enthusiasm for a case or angry to miss a major social event and many possibilities for networking. "The Portman case, sir. It'll take me at least one week."  
  
"Too bad, Lieutenant." AJ's voice was perfectly neutral. Except to those who knew the friend beneath the SEAL. "Lt. Prumetti," he then turned to Fred. "Would you and your fiancée care to join us for the concert as we have two tickets left?"  
  
"We'd be glad to, sir."  
  
"Then that's settled. That is all." AJ rose and everyone jumped to their feet and came to attention. "See you all on Sunday at 1030 in front of the Kennedy Center. Dismissed."  
  
On hearing their "Aye, aye, sir!" AJ left the conference room and headed for his office.  
  
  
  
Sun, May 10th 1137 ZULU Harm's apartment North of Union Station Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
"How can I even think about going out in public with a face like this?" Mac shouted in frustration, angrily thrusting her powder-puff at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The colors on her jaw were oscillating between a deep purple red and a light greenish yellow, passing every color imaginable in between from her chin to her ear. She had decided to get up early to somehow find a way to hide the remnants of her jaw surgery, but she was slowly running out of ideas how to do it. At least the swelling had passed and she could open her mouth normally again. But those damn colors would always shine through her make-up.  
  
Harm, yawning and stretching, entered the bathroom and, with a smile, encircled her in his arms, looking into the mirror with his chin on her shoulder. "Did you have 'colorful' dreams, jarhead?" he asked, chuckling.  
  
"Good morning to you, too, Commander," she snapped, unable to keep her mouth from twitching despite the situation.  
  
Harm turned her around in his arms and scrutinized the effusion of blood the treatment had caused. Compassion shone in his eyes as he gently traced the stained skin with his fingertips. "My poor favorite Marine," he whispered gently and then said matter-of- factly: "I've got an hour until I have to go and meet with Webb at the... at our rendezvous point. Want me to try and take care of it? You know, I'm very good at fixing scratches in 'Sarah's' yellow varnish."  
  
Mac gently slapped him on his bare chest, not oblivious to how good the muscles felt under her fingers. "Right. And that makes you an expert in fixing your other Sarah's varnish as well?"  
  
He grinned. "Maybe..."  
  
She couldn't resist to returning his smile. Sighing, she handed him her make-up case. "I'm out of ideas anyway. See what you can do, mechanic."  
  
Chuckling, he searched through the bag's contents, then found her liquid make up jar. Working carefully, he applied it to her cheek, then softly blew on it until it had dried. Mac closed her eyes and enjoyed his tender touch as he covered the spot with compact powder and then repeated the whole procedure twice. Finally he moved away and surveyed his artwork. "Take a look, Colonel," he said.  
  
Mac turned to the mirror. "Wow. Great job, I have to admit, flyboy," she said lovingly, glancing up at him in the mirror. Then she turned and put her arms around his neck. Harm pulled her tight to his body, the fine linen material of her white nightgown the only physical barrier between them. He was able to feel every curve of her beautifully shaped body through it. 'Don't get carried away, Hammer,' he kept telling himself as he felt his stomach tighten.  
  
"What would I do without you?" Mac whispered with a huge smile in her beautiful eyes.  
  
"You don't have to do without me. You won't get rid of me, Marine," he whispered back, letting a slow, tender kiss follow his words, a kiss that threatened to make her knees give out. She ordered herself to come to her senses and drew back slightly, concern showing on her now sober face.  
  
"I know you can't tell me, but, Harm, please, whatever it is you're up to today, take care of yourself, will you? I won't have a quiet moment anyway, but your word of honor that you'll consider the safest option available, will make me feel a little more comfortable until you're back."  
  
Harm earnestly looked into her eyes as he put his right hand on his heart. "Sarah, I give you my word of honor as an officer and my promise as the man who loves you more than anything else in this world that you won't have the slightest reason to be worried for my safety today. Okay?"  
  
"Okay," she said, sniffling. Then she let out a slight chuckle. "Let's lighten the mood before you'll have to do my make-up all over again if I can't hold back those tears."  
  
Laughing softly, he gave her a peck on the tip of her nose and vanished into the shower.  
  
An hour later she was still in her bathrobe, having finished her hair and make-up that gave him a glimpse of how beautiful she would look at the charity concert.  
  
"I'd rather come with you, Mac," Harm said ruefully as she accompanied him to the door.  
  
"I know, but it can't be helped, can it? Wait, are you going just like that?" She looked him over in his simple civvies: jeans, t-shirt, sweater, Nikes and base-cap. No sidearm, no file, nothing.  
  
"Yeah. Webb has everything I need. I brought my things over yesterday to our rendezvous point. Now get dressed and enjoy yourself, Marine."  
  
"I would if you were with me. But things being as they are, I'll plaster on a fake smile and get things over with," she replied, making a mock face.  
  
"See you in a few hours then. Wish me luck, Mac," Harm whispered, his face sober and uneasiness in his eyes.  
  
Mac felt her worries growing but resolved not to make him feel even worse for her sake. "Good luck, my sailor," she whispered back, kissing him tenderly, and with a smile closed the door at his back. Only then she let out a sob that had been lingering in her throat.  
  
  
  
Sun, May 10th 1530 ZULU Kennedy Center Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
Mac had never thought her make-up would survive this trip. She had been sweating like hell on the road, stuck in traffic and her air conditioning was broken once again. But whatever charm Harm had applied with his treatment held. Holding her small dark blue silk jacket, that hung loose above her shoulders, and slightly lifting up the long skirt of the matching off-the-shoulder dress, she ran to join her friends as gracefully as her high heels would permit.  
  
Harriet was giving out the tickets. Mac noted with silent joy that her belly was barely beginning to show under her pink dress.  
  
"Good morning, Colonel," the admiral greeted her, echoed by the others. Then Mac turned and saw a slender young woman stepping up to her, beaming radiantly.  
  
"Mac, it's so good to see you!"  
  
"Claire!" Mac hugged her younger friend. "Talking to you on the phone's been great, but seeing you in person is just... terrific!"  
  
"Well, I hope we'll get more of that now that Fred and I are so close by."  
  
"Count on it! My God, Lieutenant!" Mac exclaimed as Fred stepped up to greet her. She had never seen him in his dress whites before. Those Italians sure had style, she thought. Fred's white jacket had the front buttons hidden, emphasizing even more a bright royal blue sash that went from his right shoulder to his left hip where a shining saber was attached to his side. 'Too bad that I see no gold wings, then he'd be perfect.' She smiled at the thought. "Fred, you look like prince charming."  
  
"Thank you, ma'am." The young lieutenant couldn't help blushing.  
  
"Ready to go in, everyone?" Harriet asked. "Bud's sending his love to all of you but he wants to finish his rehab. So he'll be watching the concert on TV during physical therapy."  
  
"Tell him we miss him, Harriet," Mac said.  
  
"Let's go in then," Chegwidden said and they set off for their seats.  
  
"Did you hear anything about the program yet, Lt. Sims?" Tiner asked as they found their seats. They had gotten very good tickets in the tenth row, near enough to the stage to see details but far away enough not to have to look up. The whole concert hall was sold out, the audience obviously being very exclusive and ready to open their bursting purses for whatever charity was asked of them.  
  
"No, Tiner. I tried to do some research but I'm as clueless as any of you." Harriet smiled apologetically.  
  
"Not entirely clueless, though," cut in Sturgis.  
  
"What do you know that we don't, Cmdr. Turner?" Jackie Mattoni leaned forward, eager to learn some details.  
  
Sturgis smiled. "Not much, actually. Bobbi's been appointed host for the event and she let slip that we'll get a program put together of very different pieces of music. But the interesting thing's not so much what, but who will perform. It seems that one musician has been chosen from every governmental institution or military branch participating. She won't give me any further hints, telling me that even she gets her information on stage, opening envelopes, you know, like that Oscar stuff. But obviously whoever organized this mega event, thought it would add to the fun having the surprise moments secured. It definitely will for the TV public."  
  
'This is going to be fun,' Mac thought. But before she could ask Sturgis for any further information, the orchestra appeared on stage and tuned their instruments. Somewhere a cell-phone started to beep. Angry "ssshhh"- noises caused a bustle in the audience as everyone double-checked their own electronic devices. Then the lights above the audience dimmed and a single spotlight appeared on stage, following the woman walking to center stage, obviously enjoying her warm welcome applause.  
  
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Congresswoman Bobbi Latham gently greeted the public. "Let me welcome you to today's government charity concert. Thank you for joining us. There are so many of you today, I only hope it will show in the bank account we opened for today's fundraising." At Bobbi's smile low chuckles were heard in the public. Mac watched Sturgis silently admire the beautiful congresswoman in her smashing red dress. Bobbi continued. "A very warm welcome, too, to the many, many people who are with us today in front of their TVs here with us today via ZBS live broadcast from Washington D.C. During the intermission we'll provide you with a phone number where you can make your donations. As for the recipients of today's fundraising, I now ask for someone to come onstage who'll explain the details to us. Representing the organizing institution of today's concert, the Central Intelligence Agency," (astonished murmurs were heard in the audience), "Please welcome Undersecretary of State, Mr. Clayton Webb."  
  
Mac sat bolt upright. A suspicion began to rise in her mind - but no, it couldn't be true. Maybe this was part of their cover. But still... She cast a quick look at the admiral who remained seated as quietly as he had been before. Maybe she was just imagining things.  
  
Led by applause, Webb stepped onto the stage and greeted Bobbi charmingly with a pecks on each cheek. 'I didn't know this was the Oscar night,' Mac thought, frowning.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen," Clay began as the crowd had digested their astonishment, "I am very much aware that normally the CIA would be one of the last institutions in this country to ever organize a major public event like this. We 'spies'," he let the word sink in with a sly look around and at once had all the sympathies on his side as soft laughter was heard from the public, "We spies tend to cover our tracks wherever we go and if we ever come to media attention, it's a bit of misdirection the media got a hold of. Anyway, we felt it was time to let people know that we actually do more good than they seem to believe. That is why we organized this event and we were surprised at the degree of cooperation we encountered with all government authorities. You know, normally things don't always go too smoothly..." Webb artfully let his voice trail off with a half-smile. 'He is good at it!' Mac conceded with a grin as the audience was laughing more openly, obviously liking the charming 'spy'.  
  
"The recipients of your donations live in a country that right now holds many dreadful memories and fears for Americans. They may seem to stand on the other side but they are still way too innocent to raise anything else than our compassion for their situation. Let us give a financial hand today to UNICEF's projects in Afghanistan. Thank you." Roaring applause filled the auditorium as Clayton Webb was led off the stage by Bobbi.  
  
Mac turned to see a pained expression quickly cross Harriet's face. She took her hand and squeezed it, earning a reassuring squeeze in return, telling her that her friend was all right.  
  
"Today's musicians volunteered to stand up on stage. Every participating institution is sending a very gifted musician for you to enjoy today," Bobbi explained, a white envelope in her hand. "So let's just start by thanking the Washington Symphony Orchestra to have volunteered as well to accompany them." Bobbi opened the envelope and quickly scanned the words on the card inside. "The conductor of our concert is a young special agent, normally specialized in profiling. He'll open the program with the "Overture 1812" by Tchaikovsky. Let us all welcome, representing the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Special Agent Raymond Burns." Bobbi made a wide gesture with her free hand and left the stage. A young, tall man walked up to the conductor's podium, solemnly bowed and took up his baton. The concert began.  
  
Soon everybody in the audience was silently wondering how governmental or military personnel could possibly find the time to practice enough to attain the music standards they were displaying onstage. Burns had an excellent feel for the orchestra's needs. He would stay unobtrusive, let the professional musicians use their experience, but be present and a firm leader every time a passage needed it. And standards were kept high by every soloist that followed after the orchestral opening. An Air Force Captain provided a stunning interpretation of the first movement of Mendelssohn's violin concerto in e minor. Then a state senator of Rhode Island showed her talent in the great aria of Pamina, taken from Mozart's 'Magic Flute'. Then a high diplomatic officer from the State Department played a sweet little harpsichord concerto by Vivaldi.  
  
As his applause faded away, Bobbi again stepped on stage with yet another white envelope in her hand. "Before we grant you your well-deserved intermission," she began, interrupted by laughter from the audience who was greatly enjoying the event, "We have one last piece in store for you. I've been briefed that the musician who will now come to perform, has done a huge favor to all of us by stepping in for a colleague with only four days preparation. We all owe him for that sacrifice."  
  
Mac felt her mouth go dry. This couldn't be possible. Holding her breath, she saw Bobbi open the envelope and barely contain her surprise. The congresswoman swallowed, re-plastered her now somewhat strained smile to her face and announced: "We'll now hear the second movement of Joaquín Rodrigo's guitar concerto. And here is for you, representing the United States Navy, former naval aviator and now lawyer with the Judge Advocate General Corps, Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr."  
  
A loud 'thump' indicated that Harriet had dropped her purse in pure astonishment. For the JAG family the scene played in slow-motion: Jackie turned to Alan Mattoni who turned to Claire who turned to Fred who turned to Harriet who turned to Tiner who turned to Sturgis who turned to Mac who, feeling all their inquisitive gazes lingering on her, only lifted her hands in an I-was-as-clueless-as-you movement and turned to AJ who met all their glances with a huge smirk on his face.  
  
Just then applause set in as a tall figure in immaculate dress whites slowly crossed the stage to the soloist's chair near the conductor's podium. Carrying his guitar in his left hand, Harm shook hands with the concertmaster in the first violins' front row and then slowly bowed to the public, his gaze wandering.  
  
Harm was desperately searching the audience for any sign of Mac. He felt dreadful and knew that his only source of strength to help him through this would be a reassuring look from her. Finally he saw her and his friends sitting in the tenth row, staring up at him open-mouthed. 'At least they didn't know beforehand,' he told himself, looking at Mac. His Marine finally seemed to realize that she had no reason to fear for his physical well-being, and this realization, paired with the expression of rising pride of her best friend, painted her features with one of the most beautiful smiles Harm had ever seen. 'I'll play for you, Mac, only for you,' he thought, answering her with a barely noticeable smile of his own, suddenly feeling much more at ease than he had all day.  
  
He carefully re-tuned his instrument, took a firm seat and nodded to Burns to begin. It was the first time that Mac heard the piece with its orchestral accompaniment. And the incredible amount of longing the piece held was underlined in every single note. Soon even the toughest coughers in the audience were silenced, holding their breath and listening to the tall navy officer who in an instant had succeeded in capturing their attention with the extent of emotion that his interpretation conveyed.  
  
Instead of looking into the abyss or closing his eyes in concentration, Harm locked his gaze with Mac's, his eyes never leaving hers, telling her that all that was inside the music was inside his heart as well, waiting for her to see. She seemed to read his music, and through it, his mind. Her gaze confirmed his hopes that her mind was a mirror to his own.  
  
"This is incredible," Mac heard Harriet whisper in awe. Had she been able to take her eyes away from Harm's, she would have seen Alan and Fred taking the hands of their wife and fiancée, respectively, Harriet wiping away a tear from her cheek, Tiner sitting open-mouthed, staring, and AJ and Sturgis exchanging a look, having traced the line connecting Mac and Harm's eyes.  
  
When the piece came to an end, there was nothing but deep silence. Harm held his hands on the chords for a few moments while Burns never let his baton sink. Only after what seemed several minutes, but was in fact about ten seconds, Harm dropped his right hand and cast a smile up to the young conductor who returned it and let his hands drop.  
  
Then the hurricane broke loose. Tiner was the first to jump to his feet and with all the force his voice was able to bring up he yelled: "Braaavooo!!!" At once the whole auditorium joined in, cheering, whistling, clapping their hands wildly at this musical hallmark moment.  
  
Harm rose and bowed, a smashing flyboy-grin spreading on his face, clearly showing his relief. His eyes never left Mac who was on her feet, applauding wildly with the whole JAG staff. 'I love you!' she mouthed, and he gave her a quick wink to show her he had understood. He then left the stage, Burns following him, both reappearing after a few moments. Burns had the orchestra rise and Harm again shook hands with the concertmaster. Bobbi came to join him, bringing with her the other soloists of the first half of the concert. All received flowers and congratulated each other. Then all musicians left the stage and the public streamed out of the concert hall, immediately crowding the bistro areas outside.  
  
Mac turned to Chegwiden who was walking behind her. "Excuse me, sir, but I'd like to go backstage for a moment."  
  
AJ smiled, his eyes full of pride for his officer who had saved the honor of the navy. "Then off you go, Colonel. We'll see the commander after the concert. Give him our compliments, will you?"  
  
"Of course, sir. Thank you, sir." And Mac was already on her way.  
  
As she reached the soloists' dressing-rooms behind the stage she stopped short in her tracks, seeing an enormous line of people wanting autographs in front of Harm's door. Not wanting to cause any uproar, she quietly got in line. 'They all have to be back in when the concert continues,' she thought, smiling to herself. 'I don't."  
  
She enjoyed herself watching the people and listening to their conversation. Two teenage girls in very grown-up dresses were giggling and dancing on their feet in front of Mac.  
  
"Oh my God," she heard one of them say, "Isn't he hot?! When I saw him walking on stage... wow!"  
  
"And his grin is soooo cute!" the other cut in excitedly.  
  
"And this uniform. I bet he's a real hero."  
  
"He's a pilot. I'm sure he's gotta be so tough up in the air. And then he's got a heart for music, that's sooo cool!"  
  
Mac could hardly bite back her laughter. They were talking about Harm, not about Robbie Williams!  
  
"He was concentrating so hard when he played. And he was staring in the same direction all the time. I just hope it wasn't his wife sitting there!" one of them took up the topic that both of them were most interested in.  
  
"His girlfriend would be bad enough," the other girl complained.  
  
"What do you think is his age?"  
  
"Dunno. Something between 35 and 40?"  
  
"Nah... he's younger than that. Too cool to be so old."  
  
Mac couldn't hold back a snort. Quickly turning, she managed to hide her amusement from them.  
  
"But I sooo wanna know who he was staring at!" the first one said fiercely.  
  
"Yeah. Me, too." They were about to be called in next. "I just wish they had printed pictures of the musicians in the program," the second girl sighed, preparing her pen and paper. "Oh, I'd so hate to learn he's got a girlfriend! Just who was it he was looking at? And then giving that smile that made my knees turn to jell-o?" The other girl nodded eagerly at this comment.  
  
Mac felt she couldn't resist any more. "Me," she stated matter-of-factly as the girls were about to go in. They turned and stared at her as they would at an alien. To prove that she wasn't kidding, Mac added with a sly smile: "And by the way, he's 40 and already taken."  
  
The girls snapped their mouths shut, gulped visibly at the sight of the tall, gorgeous brunette that was addressing them and hurried to get inside the dressing-room as Harm, with a smile that seemed just a little exasperated, led out the elderly lady who had been waiting for an autograph in front of them. Seeing Mac standing next in line, Harm's eyes lit up for a fraction of a second before being all politeness again for the trembling girls.  
  
When they came out, the intermission nearing its end, all other admirers who had been in line behind Mac had left. Harm graced the girls with his patented grin and then let his smile grow to a real heartfelt one as Mac stepped to greet him. She gave him a 'Let's-give-them-a-good-show' grin and he instantly understood.  
  
"Hey, my darling," he cooed, an irresistible smile sparkling in his eyes. He pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her passionately for the stunned girls to see. So the lady had been right in telling them that he was taken! As the bell announced the beginning of the second half, they turned and reluctantly strolled back into the hall.  
  
"Are they gone?" Harm whispered against Mac's mouth.  
  
"Yeah," she replied, never breaking the kiss.  
  
Harm moved backward, dragging her into the dressing-room and closing the door behind them. The kiss stretched until they ran out of air.  
  
"You're wearing me out, Marine," Harm grinned, leaning his forehead against hers, gasping.  
  
"I'd say our acting was... breathtaking," Mac commented dryly, gasping herself.  
  
He drew back and smiled at her, one eyebrow up high. "So your kiss was just part of our little show?"  
  
"'Course," she replied carelessly. "Don't overestimate the effect you have on me, squid."  
  
Their eyes held for a few moments. Then Mac's mouth twitched, causing Harm to snort and together they broke out laughing, hugging tightly, feeling the tension finally slip away.  
  
"You had me worried all day," Mac admitted softly when their laughter had quieted down.  
  
Harm gave her a loving grin and, cupping her face, caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I promised I wouldn't be in any physical danger, right?"  
  
Mac returned his smile. "Yup. And as always I should have known that I could rely on your word. Harm, you played wonderfully. You swept me away."  
  
Harm felt himself blush. "It was okay, I guess, given the fact that I had four days..."  
  
"Stop denying your success! You know you were great!" Mac slapped him on the chest, smirking.  
  
"Okay, okay," he held up his hands in defense. "I admit it went very well, but that's because I had you to inspire me, my favorite Marine."  
  
"You're so sweet." She quickly kissed him on the lips, smiling broadly to hide her emotion. "But tell me one thing: Why didn't you tell anyone what you were about to do?"  
  
Harm smiled a little sheepishly. "I didn't want anyone to come here with great expectations. And I would have had to explain why I had to fill in and that would have caused new questions and speculations about why I wouldn't have been able to answer them."  
  
Mac's face sobered. "What's this all about?"  
  
"I don't know." Harm sat down on the chair in front of the dressing-table, pulling her to his lap. "The admiral told me the information was classified. Maybe Webb wanted this to be treated with discretion because they suspect something behind the suicide of the person who was supposed to perform for the navy."  
  
"Webb..." Mac sighed, exasperated. "Suicide, right? And who was supposed to stand up for the navy?"  
  
"Classified."  
  
"Oh man."  
  
They sat in silence for several minutes, enjoying their closeness.  
  
"Did I tell you how beautiful you look, Sarah?" He looked up to her with a half-smile.  
  
Mac blushed slightly. "Not yet. But I was hoping you would because I had an artist helping me with my make-up this morning. See it?"  
  
He faked a thoughtfully scrutinizing look. "Yeah, right. Good work." Then he cast her a king size flyboy-grin.  
  
Mac took her purse and pulled out her wallet, opening it to reveal a black- and-white portrait photo of him that had been taken two years back. "Maestro, would you mind writing me an autograph?"  
  
  
  
Wed, May 13th 0012 ZULU Harm's apartment North of Union Station Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
"Phew!" Harm shut the door behind Mac's back, strode over to the kitchen counter, put down the heavy grocery bags he had been carrying and then took off his cover, threw it on a nearby barstool and wiped away the sweat from his forehead. Mac followed close by, relieving herself with a loud 'thud' of the weight of a case of mineral-water bottles that she had been carrying. Then she, too, took off her cover and uniform jacket, went to hang them up near the door and bent down to where Harm's unopened mail was still lying on the floor (he had slept at her apartment the previous night) while he was busying himself putting away the groceries.  
  
"Two bills and a letter," she told him, walking over to him and sitting down on a stool, thankfully accepting the glass of water he handed her with a smile. "Thanks."  
  
"Drop the bills, who's the letter from?"  
  
Mac turned it over several times in her hands, frowning. "It's got no sender's address on it. Only yours written in type letters. Stamp says New York." She examined it more closely searching for any hint of dangerous material. Eventually she decided it was safe to open it. "Want me to look inside?"  
  
"Yeah, please, my hands are sticky with tomato juice. The pack must have leaked all the time." He made a face and began to clean up the traces it had left.  
  
"Okay, here we go.... Harm, look, this is so strange!"  
  
He turned, frowning, to find her looking at - a sheet of music. "Just this?"  
  
"Yes. No words. Just music."  
  
"Let me see." He wiped his hands and took the sheet from her hand, examining it closely. Then, without saying anything, he went to the bedroom and returned with his guitar. "Hold the sheet up... yeah, like that, thanks, Mac."  
  
He studied the pentagrams. "It's a melody, like in a song without words, and something that seems to be a guitar accompaniment, actually." Taking another close look at the lines Harm began to play, yet leaving out the melody.  
  
The song rang a bell somewhere back in Mac's mind. She frowned and tried to concentrate on where she had heard it but couldn't place it. Having finished, Harm looked up to find her thoughtful. "You know the piece, don't you?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess, but right now I can't remember what it was. Do you know it?"  
  
"No. But I'll play it again and try to hum the melody. Maybe that'll help you."  
  
Mac closed her eyes and tried hard to figure out the song's title. It was a country song, though rather modern, and it had a somewhat urgent and quietly menacing sound. She knew it, she was sure of it, but what the hell... "Garth Brooks!" she suddenly blurted out as she finally recognized it. Harm stopped playing somewhere in the middle of the piece and only raised his eyebrows, a huge question mark on his features.  
  
"The song's called 'The night will only know'. It's got rather disturbing lyrics. If I only had my CD here with me. Then we might find a hint on what this is all about." Mac began to pace up and down agitatedly in front of the kitchen counter.  
  
Harm was just as curious as she was. "Tell you something: it's way too hot for the clothes you have stored at my place, anyway. Why don't you go home and bring over some summer clothes? There's still some room for your stuff in my cupboard and you could get the CD as well. In the meantime I'll cook dinner."  
  
Mac was already on her way. "Back in a minute!" she yelled before closing the door.  
  
An incredibly short time later Mac let herself back in with her key, wearing a light summer dress and carrying her uniform and some light garments in a laundry basket. On top lay the CD.  
  
"Hey, a fairy just came to visit," Harm said with a smile when her dress caught his eyes.  
  
"Just felt like celebrating the first real hot day of the season," she replied, putting the CD into the stereo. Harm immediately recognized the song as the piece from his letter and, beginning from the second stanza, the lyrics slowly made the hair on the back of his neck stand up ever more.  
  
That night will live forever Their first time to lie together They were finally where desire dared them to go Both belonging to another But longing to be lovers Promising each other that the night will only know  
  
Parked on some old back-street They laid down in the back seat And fell into the fire down below But they would pay for their deceiving For a deadly web was weaving Why they picked that spot that evening Lord, the night will only know  
  
Well within the innuendos Just outside the steamy windows The night was shattered by a woman's scream Motionless and frightened The grip of fate had tightened And with trembling hands they wiped away the steam  
  
They saw a woman pleading Stumbling, begging and retreating 'Til she became the victim of her foe And they watched her fall in silence To save their own alliance But the reason for the violence Just the night will only know  
  
And every paper ran the story She was stripped of all her glory And they told exactly how the woman died Abandoned and forsaken Too many pills were taken And they ruled the woman's death a suicide  
  
Bound by their behavior They could have been her savior Now guilt becomes the endless debt they owe But another crime was committed And it's never been admitted Have the guilty been acquitted Lord, the night will only know  
  
"Suicide," Mac whispered, letting the booklet that she had been following the lyrics in slowly sink to her lap.  
  
Harm had visibly paled as the song had revealed its dreadful story. He, too, had quickly understood the connection it held with the charity concert. "Someone seems to think it wasn't," he replied slowly.  
  
"Or someone knows," Mac added, "And feels this is the only way to speak for whatever reason."  
  
Harm took the letter and examined it yet another time. Nothing, no words, no hints, no signs except the music. "There's got to be some indication to I don't know what on this thing," he sighed, running his hand through his hair. He scrutinized every note... and suddenly had a suspicion.  
  
"Mac, I didn't finish playing it when you had found out what it was. I think I just noted something interesting in the melody line near the end. You familiar with the morse code?"  
  
Mac looked up from the booklet in surprise. "I'm a Marine, Harm. Why?"  
  
Harm intensely studied the paper. "Write down the rhythm I'll knock on the counter and tell me if it makes any sense. It's in the last few bars and musically it just doesn't make any sense. Far too many little notes."  
  
Mac took a pen and a piece of paper and noted what Harm was reading in the rhythm, being able to make out the end of each letter by a pause written in the melody.  
  
".-- / . / -.. / .---- / ...-- / ----- / ..... / ----- / ----- / .-. / .--- / .- / --. / .... / --.-"  
  
"Harm," she gasped when she understood the meaning of the encoded message, "Someone wants to meet you."  
  
"What?" he asked, incredulous, as he put down his guitar and bent over her shoulder to read for himself. "WED130500RJAGHQ," he murmured slowly, feeling his stomach tighten. "You're right, Mac. Whoever wrote this wants to meet me tomorrow morning at 0500 ROMEO at JAG Headquarters. He or she must have been sure I could figure this out."  
  
"They probably saw you play on TV and understood you could read music," she guessed, "Well, we'd better go and find out who it is and what he or she wants."  
  
"Wait a minute, Mac," Harm ventured, frowning, inwardly preparing himself for the discussion that he was sure would follow. "I'm going, not you. This letter was directed to me. I'm sure the sender wants to meet me alone."  
  
Mac stubbornly crossed her arms in front of her chest. "No way. Someone's got to be there to watch your six, flyboy. I'm coming. Period."  
  
"Mac..."  
  
"Don't 'Mac' me, Harm. My mind is made up."  
  
"That's what I'm afraid of." He sighed, knowing she wouldn't give in and secretly loving her for this trait of her character. "Okay, you win. But stay hidden in the car and come out only if necessary. Okay?"  
  
She smiled, enjoying her victory. "Okay. Now let's eat that risotto you made and get some sleep. We gotta get up early, you know, squid?"  
  
"Aye, ma'am," he chuckled, going to get the steaming bowl.  
  
  
  
Wed, May 13th 0959 ZULU JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA  
  
  
  
Harm slowly pulled into the parking lot, glancing around for any hints of someone who might be waiting for him. He was in dark sweats, his sidearm ready to be pulled out from the waistband at his back. Mac, dressed in black, was laying low in the back of the car, her weapon in her hands. Harm shut down the motor and exited the car. Crouched low on the back seat, Mac watched him walk up slowly in the direction of the entrance. But just before he came into sight for the guards she saw him stop and turn his head as if he were listening. She felt a shiver creep over her back. 'Please, God, don't let anything happen to him,' she silently prayed, clutching her gun more firmly.  
  
Harm wasn't sure if he had been wrong but as he stood perfectly still and listened, he heard it again. Someone was very softly whistling 'The night will only know'. He turned in the direction that the sound came from and made sure he was always walking within Mac's line of sight. Then he saw a small figure emerge from the shadows of a tree. He stopped and waited. The other figure very slowly approached him, hands held up as if to say 'Don't shoot, I just want to talk.' When the person was only a few feet away Harm, to his astonishment, noted that it was a young woman, maybe even a girl still, petite and fragile-looking. Harm could tell that she was frightened to death.  
  
"Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr.?" she asked in a whisper, her voice shaking.  
  
"Yes," he said very low. Did she fear that they were watched by someone?  
  
"Oh my God, I'm so glad to see you, sir," she whispered. He could tell she was at the verge of crying with relief.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Cadet Jeannine Stiller, sir, from Dwayne Myers Naval College, New York."  
  
"Wait a minute," he whispered incredulously, "You came all the way from New York to see me in the middle of the night?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Thank you so much for coming. There's no one with you, right?"  
  
Harm began to feel pity for the young girl. "No, I'm alone."  
  
"Let's walk around a little while we talk, please, sir. I'm not sure if I've been followed."  
  
"All right," Harm said, signaling to Mac behind his back that he thought the situation was safe. "Tell me, Cadet Stiller, what's this all about?"  
  
"Sir, I saw you on TV, the concert, you know. I'm sure you know whom you've been filling in for, right?"  
  
Harm was getting curious. "Actually I don't. All I know is that whoever it was committed suicide." He saw the girl wince at the last word.  
  
"No, sir, she didn't." Her voice was barely audible.  
  
Stopping short in his tracks, Harm asked: "She, Cadet?"  
  
Forcing him to go on by never slowing down her pace, Stiller answered: "Yes, sir. Cadet Meryl Waters, second year, my roommate. She was supposed to play the second movement of Mozart's clarinet concerto at the charity event." She couldn't hold back her tears anymore. Without thinking Harm embraced the trembling girl and let her cry for a few moments until she quieted. Then Stiller stepped back, sniffing embarrassedly. "I'm sorry, sir, I sincerely apologize for my behavior."  
  
"Apology accepted, Cadet. What makes you think Cadet Waters didn't commit suicide?" he ventured carefully.  
  
"I saw it, sir."  
  
"Saw what?"  
  
"How he... the man... he made her swallow something. She didn't want to. She struggled, sir, she cried. She begged but he succeeded. She almost instantly fell to the ground in convulsions and then she stopped moving..." Stiller tried to suppress a sob but it came out nevertheless. Harm put a reassuring hand on the poor girl's shoulder. She gave a start but then slowly relaxed.  
  
"Could you see him, Cadet?"  
  
"No, it was dark, sir. They were on the parking lot at the back of the college, sir. And we... I... well, I was in a car with..."  
  
"Your boyfriend?" Harm was careful to keep his voice as neutral as possible.  
  
"Yeah," she admitted, leaving out the rest. "My... boyfriend had to go away and I got out of the car. He drove away and I walked back to the campus's back door. The parking lot has two parts, you know, at right angles to one another. When I walked around the corner I saw them. The only thing I could make out was that she seemed to know him. When Meryl was... dead he would look up and see me standing there. Sir, I was like... frozen. He had his face covered. And he..." she gulped visibly and went on barely whispering, "He started to come in my direction. Sir, I only ran until I reached my dorm. I bolted my door and cried all night."  
  
"Why didn't you call the police or tell anyone?"  
  
"I don't know, sir," she girl sobbed, "At first I was too scared to move and the next day the letters started."  
  
"What letters?"  
  
"Anonymous letters, sir. They were threatening me, saying they could get to me wherever I went. And the letters held detailed schedules of what I was supposed to be doing during the day and where and what I'd done in between the day before. Sir, I don't know how they get the information but they seem to follow my every move. I brought you one letter, sir." She handed him an envelope.  
  
"So why did you come here, Cadet? And how do you know they won't get to you on your way back?"  
  
"I read an article about you on ZBS.com, sir, after the concert. And I knew if there was one person who could possibly help me it would be you, sir. I had figured that with them knowing my every move I wouldn't be able to leave the college during the day or to make phone calls. Thinking of what I'd seen, the Garth Brooks song came to my mind and I knew you'd figure it out. But if the letter would get into the wrong hands maybe they wouldn't know what it was supposed to mean. I wasn't sure of that but I felt it was my only option. My boyfriend is a computer crack, sir. He once showed me how to leave traces on the Internet for someone else to find. I'm sure whoever writes to me knows how it works but they surely don't suspect me to know as well. So I managed to get a message to my boyfriend who sent you the music, sir. And he arranged for me to be smuggled outside the college by a friend of his who does grocery deliveries. We drove all night and he dropped me off here. He'll come and get me in," she glanced at her watch, "Six minutes exactly. I've got lessons only at 1400 today, so I locked my door and hopefully they think I'm there, sleeping. People leave me pretty much alone since Meryl's death so I hope they won't notice I'm missing. Please, sir," she urgently begged him, "Help me and find out who did this to her and why."  
  
Harm had listened in unbelieving silence. This girl was obviously going through hell. "Do you have any idea why someone would want to kill Cadet Waters?"  
  
"Not really, sir. She just told me that she had found out something and it seemed to trouble her very much. She wanted to tell me when I got back, the evening she was murdered. She was a rather thorough person. I'm sure there's somewhere she has written down or recorded what she found but I didn't find it yet. After the police ruled Meryl's death a case of suicide, knowing she had emotional problems - she's... was a talented artist but her family didn't want her to become a musician, you know - they left her things packed in cases until her family who lives in Oregon would come to get them at the end of the term. Sir, will you please, please help me?" she repeated, at the verge of crying again.  
  
"I'll have to tell your story to some people," he began and at her shocked expression quickly reassured her, "But it will only be my closest co- workers and my C.O. After all, he must consent to my investigating. Don't worry, Cadet, I have an excellent working relationship with the admiral. If I tell him I'm sure he'll understand the situation. And my co-workers I would trust with my life. They'll be sure to keep your secret. Anyway, we'll have help for you on the way ASAP. I promise, Cadet Stiller. Just you promise me to stick with your friends and never pull a stunt like this again until you notice you're being helped, okay? That's an order."  
  
"Aye, sir," the girl sobbed with relief. Just then a van slowly pulled up to the entrance to the parking lot, the driver seeming to study a map, casually pulling to a halt on the sidewalk.  
  
"Thank you so much, sir," Stiller whispered and carefully walked over to the waiting van that drove on instantly as soon as she had climbed up in the back.  
  
Harm stood in the parking lot, staring after the fading rear lights. He needed a couple of minutes to fully digest the situation that he had just been dumped in. Then he slowly walked over to his SUV where Mac was anxiously waiting for him to return, having watched his exchange with the stranger.  
  
"My God, sailor," she said, concern showing on her face, as he climbed on board. "You look terrible."  
  
"I feel terrible, Mac," was the little reassuring answer she got.  
  
"What's up? Tell me," she urged him.  
  
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You got your cell-phone, Mac?"  
  
"Sure. Why?"  
  
"I'll tell you everything on the way back. But now, please, get me Webb on the phone, will you?"  
  
"'Course." Mac speed-dialed Webb's secret number, inwardly determining not to wonder about anything that might come up now.  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	2. Chapter two

'Dissonance' - Chapter Two Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Chapter One  
  
  
  
Wed, May 13th 1627 ZULU JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA  
  
  
  
Clayton Webb was angrily pacing back and forth, waiting for the elevator that would take him up to where he was about to meet his doom once again. How on earth did Rabb do this? Try as he might to hide something from him, Clay could be sure that the smart ex-aviator would find out anyway. And if, for once, Harm didn't feel the need to investigate, he would certainly stumble over something that would make him curious enough to go looking. That guy had a goddamn subscription to investigators' luck!  
  
In fact, when he'd had to let slip to AJ that Harm would have to fill in for someone who had committed suicide, he had been waiting for any subsequent calls from the commander ever since. After the concert had been over for two days and he still hadn't heard anything from JAG, Webb had dared to hope that playing in public might have worn Harm out enough that he wouldn't be interested in the facts behind the scene. But what had been bound to happen? If the mountain wouldn't come to Mohammed, Mohammed would go to the mountain. And it was Rabb again, of all people, who had tasted blood now and wanted to clear the matter. It just wasn't fair. The elevator finally arrived and Clayton Webb went up to face his destiny.  
  
Upon entering the admiral's office, Webb saw that Harm and Mac were already present and all three officers turned to him with rather hostile glares. And much to his further dismay and surprise Webb noted that a fourth armchair was occupied: he felt himself scrutinized by the Secnav in person. What did he have to come for? He had already robbed him of precious time on the phone in the morning. Suppressing a groan, Webb greeted the assembly.  
  
"Sit down, please, Mr. Webb," AJ said, dangerously calm and emphatically polite.  
  
Webb did as he was told, remembering how a broken nose felt.  
  
"Secretary Nelson tells me that you already had your suspicions about Cadet Waters's death?" AJ ventured without introduction, his eyes never leaving Clay's.  
  
Webb cleared his throat. "Yes, we had. We were trying to establish a long- term operation inside and around the college when the death occurred."  
  
"Would you care to enlighten us what this operation would have been about?" AJ was getting close to losing his temper at the prospect of yet another conversation with Webb in the course of which he would have to dig for any crumb of information.  
  
"I'm sorry, Admiral, I can't. Classified."  
  
"Damn it, Webb!" AJ shouted, jumping to his feet and leaning over his desk, "I have my top team stuck in the affair up to their necks. I want to know what they have to deal with!"  
  
Webb, too, rose from his chair, glaring back at the admiral. Well, for once he would have a reason to defend himself. "You're completely misunderstanding the situation..."  
  
A disdainful snort from Mac's direction interrupted him. He frowned.  
  
"...misunderstanding the situation," he took up his speech. "By asking Harm to fill in for Cadet Waters I had no intention whatsoever to lure him into a case." Seeing everyone's mistrust, he sighed, exasperated. "Harm," he turned to his might-be friend, "I already told you on the phone that I wanted to keep you out of this, not get you into it." Harm only glared at him and said nothing. Webb turned back to face AJ. "The Agency has no interest whatsoever in having JAG lawyers involved in the case."  
  
AJ lost it. "Now it is you who are totally misunderstanding the case," he thundered, his eyes sending daggers at Webb. "That is exactly what's wrong about this thing, Webb! The fact that you didn't inform any of us, let alone the Secnav, that we have a reason to assume that a member of the navy, though not yet a real one, is right now in imminent danger to be murdered just like her colleague! Just because your Agency didn't want us involved and leave the place JAG-free for their investigation! Tell me, what issues are more important than two lives? And spare me your 'classified'-crap. You owe me and Cmdr. Rabb!"  
  
Webb knew that resistance would be futile. Sighing deeply, he explained: "We've been watching things at Dwayne Myers for about seven months now. We have reason to believe that an organization of drug dealers may have found a way to use the college as a safe entry for their merchandise onto the U.S. market. Before you ask for details: No, we don't know any particulars yet. Yes, we suspect we can label them Columbian but we don't know for sure. Yes, it's been damn difficult to get any information whatsoever from inside the college, and yes, we thought, not giving away our knowledge might be more important than a possible danger for the people around. Look, if the drugs reach the consumers there will be many more people in danger of dying, right?" Webb glanced around, once again meeting nothing but hostile stares.  
  
Mac rose from her chair, her face ashen and her hands clenched to fists. Subconsciously Webb scanned the room for cover. "We're talking about innocent young girls here, Webb." He felt ripped up by her glare and her voice let show that she barely managed to contain her fury.  
  
"We were taking care of the situation, Colonel," he tried to assure her. "We were just about to..."  
  
"The hell you were!" she shouted, stepping up to him until they were nose to nose. AJ just leaned back in his chair and, like Harm and Nelson, enjoyed the scene. "Obviously your agents aren't fit for their job or they would have known Cadet Stiller came here! But you didn't. We had a nice surprise for you today, didn't we, Webb?" Mac was bending forward, causing Webb to bow backwards, lose his balance and topple on the floor.  
  
By now AJ thought it wise to intervene. "Damn right you did, Colonel," he smiled devilishly. Mac seemed to awake from her trance. She gave her C.O. a confused glance, then realized that the situation was about to blow, straightened herself and, with one last killing stare at Webb, went back to her armchair. "Thank you, sir. Our pleasure."  
  
Sensing the imminent danger was over for the moment, Webb slowly rose from the floor and got back to his seat. Chegwidden cleared his throat. "Now that we exchanged our little pleasantries, let's get to business. Secretary, would you please brief us, sir?"  
  
The Secnav nodded and opened a thin file, obviously assembled in haste since the 'situation' had occurred. "Mr. Webb was kind enough to call me after having heard from you, Commander. It seems that in a crisis even the Agency remembers something like good manners," he stated with an unusual amount of dry humor. Mac gave Harm a quick eyebrows-up. Nelson went on. "Mr. Webb and I agreed that we have several things to be taken care of immediately. First, there's Cadet Stiller's personal safety. Second, there's the investigation of Cadet Waters's murder. And third in row stands the ongoing investigation of the drug syndicate. Mr. Webb offered me a way to proceed that, well, at first struck me as rather... unusual."  
  
'Nice little euphemism here,' Harm thought as he, Mac and AJ simultaneously groaned, mentally asking themselves just when Webb had ever been usual in his proceedings. The Secnav looked up, disoriented by the groan in stereo, while Webb was intensely studying his fingernails.  
  
Nelson decided to pass over the strange reaction to his words and went on: "Uhm... right. Rather unusual. But considering the options and the CIA's urging to keep things quiet, I have to admit it's the safest option to take up his plan. I've assured Mr. Webb of our unrestricted assistance." Another stereo-groan, though half-hidden. Nelson, frowning, looked at Clay. "Mr. Webb, please explain the operation."  
  
"Well," Webb began, handing out copies of Nelson's file to everyone present, "As Secretary Nelson already pointed out, the most important thing to consider would be the cadet's safety."  
  
"Hear that one, Mac?" Harm murmured to his partner, casting her a mockingly astonished glance. AJ knew he would have had to reprimand the commander for his lack of manners but somehow he just didn't feel inclined to. The Secnav fortunately didn't seem to have heard. Webb frowned, bit back a comment and went on. "So we decided we needed someone in the college to protect her 24/7. Unnoticed."  
  
AJ raised his eyebrows. "I'd like to know what twenty-year old boy or girl might be qualified for that job? A teacher wouldn't work, because you'd hardly get the girl to stick to one without her knowing that she had to for her safety."  
  
"I considered this problem, Admiral," Webb retorted, "And I think I came up with a suitable solution. We need someone who could be made to look young enough, still providing fully trained skills as a protector as well as an investigator, for surely the traces of the murder now lead to Cadet Stiller. As a matter of fact, I was thinking about the one person who would be perfect for the job: Col. Mackenzie."  
  
"No way!" AJ, Mac and Harm shouted in unison, all three of them jumping to their feet. Webb's reflexes clicked in and made him raise his arms over his head in protection.  
  
Nelson just stared at the officers' reaction and then stood up, too. "Ladies and gentlemen," he cut in firmly, "Let's hear the plan first. Besides, I have already decided that this is how we will proceed."  
  
"Without even asking me, sir!" AJ shouted, ready to defend his lawyers against one of Webb's odysseys at any costs and mad to no limits that in the end he would have to submit to the Secnav's orders nevertheless.  
  
"Yes, Admiral, without asking you. That's my prerogative," Nelson went on, unperturbed. "Believe me, it's for the best. Now let Mr. Webb finish his explanation."  
  
Clenching their teeth, the three lawyers sat down again, Harm feeling the strong urge to take Mac's hand but refraining from the gesture knowing she'd understand. Webb came out of his defensive position and matter-of- factly began to point out the details. "Mac, as I said, you will go undercover as a second-year student, becoming Cadet Stiller's new roommate. As she didn't see you when she came here there won't be any problems."  
  
"Only that I might look slightly older than twenty, even with my anti-aging cosmetics," she couldn't hold herself back from cutting in.  
  
"Colonel..." AJ gently tried to smooth the waters.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir."  
  
"I'm sure you'll work out a way to surprise us all, Colonel," Webb said smugly, causing Harm to feel a slight fit of nausea. "Anyway," Webb went on, "Cadet Stiller doesn't seem to have many close friends besides Cadet Waters, so Mac would just, well, fit in as new-found soul-mate, right? They'd attend classes together, spend their spare time, do sports, whatever."  
  
"What if she doesn't like me, Clay?" Mac asked dryly, pouting, her arms crossed in front of her chest.  
  
Webb smiled sweetly. "I'm sure she will, Mac. There's another problem, though, that we have to solve before you can go, that means in the next two days."  
  
"What problem, Webb?" Harm asked slowly, on his guard.  
  
"Well, Cadet Stiller spends much of her time practicing on her flute, being a member of the marching band. As was Cadet Waters. It's probable Waters's murderer has connections to those circles. You'll have to join the band, Colonel."  
  
"How? Clapping my hands or singing laalaa?" Mac couldn't believe it. "Clay, this is crazy! I can't even read music! What am I supposed to do in a marching band?"  
  
"As I said, you have two days to let Harm teach you the theory. And I picked the perfect instrument for you. You're tall and strong and we saw you dance, so we know you have a feeling for rhythm. You'll play the bass drum."  
  
Images instantly formed in Harm's mind. Images of Mac, in a naval-college cadet's uniform, carrying a huge drum in front of her, barely able to look over it, with cottoned drumsticks in both her hands, swinging her arms to hit the instrument's sides that had diameters of at least three feet. The thought was so odd that Harm wasn't able to retain a loud snort, followed by barely suppressed chuckling. Obviously AJ's musings had gone in a similar direction as his mouth was twitching violently. Only Mac was nothing but cold fury, increased, in fact, by her colleagues' amusement.  
  
"Forget it, Clay!!!"  
  
"There's no choice, Mac."  
  
"Try and make me!!!"  
  
"You will go, Colonel, that's a direct order!" Nelson shouted, making them all jump for they'd hardly ever heard him raise his voice before.  
  
"Aye, sir." Mac was defeated. At least Harm and AJ had by now regained control over their features.  
  
"Where does that leave me, Clay?" Harm asked, knowing he'd never let Mac walk into the lion's den by herself. To his surprise Webb seemed to have thought that far.  
  
"Patience, Harm. We'll get to your part soon. We need you for the outside investigation, to find out about the connections the syndicate has in society, in the city and beyond. Mac will cover the inside part. Let me finish explaining Mac's cover. As she may at times seem a little older than twenty, we worked out a story for her. Her name will be Patricia O'Hara."  
  
Harm and Mac exchanged a quick glance. 'Harm's mom and my uncle, I can live with that,' Mac thought. Webb continued. "Patricia's grandfather was a navy captain and a world-war hero and she always wanted to be like him."  
  
'Why navy? I'd rather it were the marine corps. I can't live with that too well, but I will have to.' She frowned, seeing Harm smirk at the thought of Mac 'wanting' to join the navy.  
  
"She wanted to attend a naval college after high school but a serious long- term illness prevented her from it."  
  
"What illness, Clay?" Mac asked cautiously, hoping he wouldn't become too realistic and refer to her alcoholism.  
  
"Leukemia," Webb stated evenly, causing Mac's color to slightly drain from her face.  
  
"Why?" she choked out.  
  
"It's easy," Webb went on matter-of-factly, as if he'd just said 'measles' or 'hay-fever'. "It's severe enough to take you out for four years, as in your case, and the chemotherapy is hard on the body, making people look slightly older at times. So you're twenty-four plus the illness bonus. And who survives comes out iron-willed. See? Perfect cover."  
  
Mac was feeling sick but she willed herself to gulp it down. "How do I get admitted to college being ill and old?" she only asked.  
  
Webb remained as self-confident as ever. "Dwayne Myers is a rather exclusive place. Your grandfather still has many friends in the military and your family, Californians, by the way, are up high in IT business. So money's no problem. As to your strange choice of instrument - your mother always wanted you to play but you never would, preferring sports. So when they let you follow your dreams and go to a naval college instead of studying e-commerce to join their firm, you at least had to do your mother a favor and join the marching band."  
  
"I see," Mac said, still frowning. "And why do I go to Dwayne Myers mid- term second year?"  
  
"You started at..." Webb glanced at the file, "San Diego but your mother felt society would be better at Long Island. So as soon as the Myers had a free place in second year... you were top of the waiting list."  
  
"That's disgusting!" Mac blurted out. "I'll have to be glad that the girl was murdered because that was why they took me?"  
  
"Kind of. Yeah." Webb looked at her with a bit of a bad conscience. "Look, Mac, that's the way things are. We had to come up with something. I'm sorry it's got to be some weird story like this but it adds up and, remember, it's for the best. I really want you around that girl because I'm sure she couldn't have a better protector. Physically and emotionally," he added quietly.  
  
Something in his voice made Harm and Mac remember Webb was a caring person after all, even if he did everything in his power to be disagreeable. Still not able to smile, Mac's anger vanished, though. "I understand," she said simply, Harm nodding his agreement, waiting for his own share.  
  
"As for you, Harm," Webb began to point out, "You'll go as yourself. Plain and simple. As a person. But not as Harmon Rabb, the investigator. I contacted Captain George Wells, the headmaster of Dwayne Myers and he offered a perfect solution. He ordered Lt. Cmdr. Peter Laird, the music teacher and leader of the marching band, by the way, to get ill for a couple of weeks. Laird seems to be a decent person, Wells certainly is and he trusts Laird to full extent. Thanks to the concert you're known as a gifted musician, Harm. That will provide you with two advantages: people will be extremely pleased to hear the navy was able to immediately find a more than adequate replacement for the well-liked teacher, and - and that's even more important for the investigation - your fame and rank and normal position as a JAG lawyer will grant you immediate access to all circles of society. And, as we all know," Webb said, smirking, "You're good with children, aren't you?"  
  
"Yeah. Great. Only that they are not children, Clay. They're young adults. And I was never good at teaching. But I assume it's the only way you'll let me get near Mac, so I accept. Just one question," Harm's glare was just as hostile as Mac's had been. "How on earth do I learn to be a conductor in two days?"  
  
Now it was Mac's turn to chuckle, seeing Harm standing in front of a big band, desperately trying to make the young people follow his baton. She was sure he would look like carrier personnel, trying to get a tomcat to maneuver safely on deck. Harm cast her a frown, knowing, though, he had to be careful, considering his reaction to her fate.  
  
Webb, as always, had a solution to that one as well. He handed Harm a calling card that read 'Special Agent Raymond Burns, Federal Bureau of Investigation'. "I'm sure after your great success on stage together he'll be ready to teach you and Mac to be unobtrusive in your roles."  
  
AJ had sat behind his desk, quietly observing and taking in the scheme. Hell, this sure was yet another of Webb's crazy missions but he understood that, given the situation as it was, it might actually be the only one to work out. He hated sending his 'kids' to investigate this case, but on the other hand he knew, as did Webb and Nelson, that they were the only ones fit for the task.  
  
"You're on immediate leave, Colonel, Commander," he said as everyone was rising, Harm and Mac coming to attention in front of him. "Meet me at my place on Friday for dinner, you, too, Webb, so you can provide them with all they need. Especially the colonel. I'll invite over Lieutenants Sims and Prumetti, including his fiancée as well as your brother, Commander, so we can take a look at your cover and get you ready to fit in properly. Commander Turner will be on personal leave so he won't be able to join us. 1900 sharp. Dismissed."  
  
"Aye, aye, sir!" Harm and Mac shouted a little louder than necessary, eager to get away.  
  
Outside the office Mac grabbed Harm's hand and dragged him straight into her office with a fierce look on her face. 'Uh oh, poor Cmdr. Rabb,' Tiner just thought as they whooshed past his desk.  
  
Mac slammed the door shut and closed the blinds. Harm, completely at a loss about what he'd done this time, prepared for the impact of her fury. Instead he was completely caught off-guard as, all of a sudden, he found himself wrapped up in her arms.  
  
"Help me, Harm," Mac pleaded against his chest, her tension slowly lessening as he put his arms around her in return and held her tight. "You know, I'm a Marine and I feel I can handle hostage situations as well as combat missions or intelligence ops, but I sure as hell don't know how to be a young girl with a happy childhood, may she have been seriously ill or not! And I'm scared of the music part. I'm sure this time I'll blow my cover and get you in danger and the girl as well!"  
  
"No, you won't, ninja-girl," he said softly, stroking the back of her head. "And I'll tell you why. You're headstrong and smart, you'll learn the music part in no time. The illness won't be a problem, either, because what you've been through with your alcoholism has made you come to know how bad things can get physically. And how much strength you need to recover and how long that can take. And you can always say that you'd rather not talk about it."  
  
"But the family thing, Harm..." she softly sobbed, her voice muffled by his uniform shirt.  
  
"Mac, look at me. Sarah..." he gently tilted her chin upwards to make their eyes meet, his once again conveying all he still found so hard to put into words. "Just imagine all that may one day be ours to have. Imagine how it will be, you and me and our children, a big, friendly house with a dog like Jingo, us two on the front-porch swing, reminiscing the old days, with our kids listening to our wild stories and not believing one word of what we're telling them, you and me at our eldest son's graduation day, even me dancing with my daughter on her wedding-day when she'll remind me exactly of what you looked like when we got married... want me to go on?"  
  
A watery but incredibly beautiful smile had spread over her face while she had been listening to him. "Is this how you want us to be or were you just trying to make me get the idea?" she asked in a whisper, holding her breath.  
  
His voice was very low and warm when he replied, nothing but absolute honesty shining in every word. "This is what I want more than anything in the world, Sarah. And if you'll give me a little more time I'll be ready to ask you properly. Do you think you can do that?"  
  
"As long as it takes, Harm. I'll wait," she whispered, overwhelmed by what he had been implying. They held on to each other for some long minutes, never wanting the moment to end.  
  
  
  
Sat, May 16th 0224 ZULU Admiral Chegwidden's residence McLean, VA  
  
  
  
"Everybody ready?" Mac shouted from behind the living-room door. As she heard seven voices shout "Yes!" in unison, she said with doubt in her voice: "Well, then meet Cadet Patricia O'Hara, known by her friends as Pat." With that she entered the room, meeting stunned silence.  
  
She was wearing a cadet's neat uniform, blue skirt, blue jacket with huge gold buttons closed up to her throat, blue beret, black college slippers with flat heels. Her hair, being slightly longer than it had been by the time of their Venice assignment, was strictly combed back from her face, held in place by a single unobtrusive gold pin could only be seen when she took off her beret. She had put on only as much make-up as was needed to cover her still greenish-yellow jaw. Apart from that she was nature's child herself. "So, what do you say?" Mac asked, smiling embarrassedly.  
  
Sergei was the first to speak. "Brother, I think I just found myself a girlfriend. Age fits perfectly," he grinned.  
  
"Ma'am... uhm... Mac, you're perfect!" Harriet was enthusiastic. "You don't need any more help from any of us. You'll fit in without the slightest problem."  
  
Harm rose and pompously paced up in front of her. "Cadet Patricia O'Hara, did you give me yesterday's assignment regarding Bach's thorough-bass techniques? I didn't find it on my desk yet. If I won't still by 1400, I'll sign you an F. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
"Yes, sir!" Mac shouted, having come to attention as soon as she had understood what he had been up to. Both, to their own utmost astonishment, managed to remain completely earnest.  
  
"Whoa, that's quite a show you two put on there!" AJ shouted, laughing. "If you keep that up, they might actually believe you and let you live. Mac, you're the sweetest cadet I ever laid eyes on!"  
  
Mac blushed. "Thank you. I do hope it works for the other teachers as well. I've been out of school for quite a bit and I just hope, with all my thorough general knowledge of the world, there won't be too many gaps in my education to make it obvious that I've been out of it for so many years."  
  
"You can always excuse that with your long stay at the hospital," Fred suggested, Claire nodding her consent.  
  
"Well, let's just hope they buy it. But wait..." she vanished out of the room again and they heard her saying: "I didn't show you the best part, yet. Everybody listen to what I learned during the last forty-eight hours!"  
  
After a moment, they heard a muffled 'thump - thump - thump, thump, thump - thump - thump - thump, thump, thump...' that grew louder and louder until Mac came into sight again. That is, the first thing the whole party could see of her was an enormous bass drum that she wore like she would a backpack in front. A moment later Mac emerged from behind the doorpost, quite easily marching and drumming her rhythm. In front of the living-room table she came to a halt, drumming on and letting her friends hear the variety of different basic rhythms that she had practiced with Agent Burns after Harm had explained to her how to read a music score. That had been an awful lot to take in at once, but she had been as headstrong as Harm had been patient, and on Friday morning around 0600 local she had finally been able to pass any test he'd set up for her - after a marathon of twenty hours filled with nothing more than studying. Friday morning Burns had come to Harm's place and had taught them both whatever they were able to swallow in the few time they had at hand.  
  
Harm again rose from his chair, took his conductor's baton that he had been showing to his friends and stepped in front of her. He took the lead of her rhythm and she let him lead her. When he slowed down so did she, when he changed from her four-four time to a quicker three-four time she complied like they had practiced all day with Burns. Everyone could see that the Agent had done a good job instructing them. When Harm led their improvised one-man piece to a conclusion everyone clapped their hands.  
  
"Good work, Colonel, Commander," AJ said with a huge grin. "I see, as always, you did a thorough research on your case."  
  
"You could put it that way, sir," Harm chuckled.  
  
  
  
Sun, May 17th 2109 ZULU Times Square New York City, N.Y.  
  
  
  
"I wish we could just stroll on like that, holding hands, glancing up at the remnants of sky between the skyscrapers..." Mac said longingly, squeezing Harm's hand.  
  
"Yeah..." Harm, with a smile, watched his beautiful Marine take in the surroundings, for once a tourist and not on a mission. "But we will have to put it off until the investigation is over," he reminded her softly, his voice conveying as much regret as she had expressed before.  
  
"Uh hmmm," she agreed reluctantly. "My clock tells me it's time for goodbyes now."  
  
"Time to say goodbye," Harm sang sappily, grinning.  
  
"Don't turn Bocelli on me," she threatened with a chuckle. Then her face sobered. "This could turn out quite a long investigation, you know. We have no clue what to look for and where and how simple it will be to blend in. And I dread the thought of seeing you every day, even talking to you, but not being allowed to show you how much you mean to me and how happy I am with you!"  
  
Harm pulled her into a tight hug, a sad smile on his face. "I can only tell you that however distant I'll have to be around you, you can always be sure of my love, Sarah. You've made me come home to myself, get to know what it is I want for my life. And Hell would freeze over before I'll ever let go of this treasure again. But that reminds me..." He lunged into his pocket and pulled out a small booklet, covered in fine leather. "Take this, Mac, and whenever you feel like talking to me and can't get near the Internet, write everything down and it'll be as if I were listening, okay?"  
  
Mac swallowed. "Thanks, Harm," she whispered. "This means a lot to me. But before you go..." She opened her purse and pulled out a small case, handing it to him with a mischievous, though teary grin.  
  
Harm opened it and cast a questioning look at her when he saw what it contained: reading glasses, just like the ones AJ wore, the ones you could look over the top.  
  
"Mac, I'm a pilot. I couldn't be if I needed glasses. What are these for?" he asked, at a loss.  
  
She smiled openly. "I know. But I always find that with AJ they underline authority. He seems more respectable and intellectual when he puts them on. You're a professor of a well-renowned college now, sailor. I don't know how on earth you plan to do it but you have to seem a respectable person. So I thought these might help. They're plain glass lenses really. But they'll do you credit. And you can always imagine seeing the world through my eyes."  
  
Harm's smile was radiating from inside his heart. "There's nothing I'd rather do. Thanks, Marine. Take care of yourself, okay?"  
  
"You, too. Give me a little time, ten minutes or so, then you can set off for Long Island as well. The way we arrive, they won't suspect we flew in together." Mac took her bag, glad her luggage had been sent directly to the college.  
  
"Aye, ma'am. I love you, Sarah." Harm kissed her tenderly and then shooed her off.  
  
"I love you back." She set off to catch a cab, without turning back to wave.  
  
  
  
Sun, May 17th 2232 ZULU Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Mac had changed into her uniform at a small restaurant near the college. From there she had walked right up to the front gate. After the guards had taken her to the headmaster - Captain Wells who had welcomed her without giving the slightest hint about the fact that he knew who she was - Mac had signed in, collected her luggage in the entrance hall and was now walking towards what would be her home for she didn't know how long.  
  
The campus was shaded by huge oak trees whose age seemed to be more conveniently counted in centuries than in decades. The dorms were built in solid brick-stone as was the main school building. Everything was kept in the neatest order, planned to be impressive from the start. There were few places where Mac had seen so much beautifully carved and polished mahogany wood, so many shining brass ornaments and marble floors as people could find in the main complex. Everything looked extremely expensive. More than once Mac had caught herself thinking: 'What am I doing here? I don't belong in these circles of society.' And it had taken her all her USMC pride to tell herself: 'Sure you do, and more than everyone else around. 'Cause you earned it yourself, without a penny from your father.'  
  
Having turned around a corner, she finally stood in front of the right building. 'House Mistral' could be read above the entrance. 'Sure fits those sailors,' Mac thought grinning, remembering she had already passed other 'windy' houses like 'Cephir', 'Trade Wind' or 'Bora'. She opened the heavy oak door, pushed her luggage inside and then herself and headed upwards to find apartment No. 1023. Upon arriving in front of the door, Mac drew one last deep breath and let go of Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, becoming Cadet Second Year Patricia O'Hara.  
  
Upon her knocking a petite blonde opened the door, smiling curiously. "Can I help you?"  
  
"Er... hi. You must be Jeannine. I'm Pat. I think I'm your new roommate." Mac thought straightforwardness might be appropriate.  
  
A shadow clouded Cadet Stiller's face for a second or two, Mac noted. Then the girl shook herself from her musing and offered Mac a genuine smile. "Hi, glad to meet you. Come in and make yourself at home."  
  
Ice broken. Mac suppressed a sigh of relief and returned the smile. "Thanks," she said and stepped into the room.  
  
The little apartment had more space than one would think from outside. It consisted of two small single bedrooms with doors to supply a minimum amount of privacy. The two rooms shared a small entrance hall, a living room, a kitchen and a bathroom. Each bedroom contained a rather large and long bed, a big cupboard, a desk with drawers, a dressing table and a washing basin. In the living room stood a small dining table with four chairs, two armchairs with a matching couch and coffee table, a TV set and stereo and bookshelves. Huge windows let in the evening sun and offered a beautiful view of the shore.  
  
"Wow," was Mac's immediate comment.  
  
"We're among the lucky ones with west windows," Jeannine said with a wink.  
  
"Definitely lucky," Mac agreed. When Jeannine offered to help her with getting her things into place she readily agreed.  
  
"So, where did the girl go whose place I'm taking?" she asked lightly, seemingly unaware of the tragedy.  
  
Jeannine swallowed. "She... committed suicide. Personal problems," was all she said.  
  
Mac feigned shock. " Oh my God... I'm so sorry. You... uhm... were good friends, I suppose?" she asked quietly.  
  
"Yeah. The best. But, please, Pat, I'd rather not go into that right now, okay?"  
  
"Sure. I'm sorry. Uhm, listen, Jeannine, I know you don't know me yet, but I wanted you to know that if you should ever feel you needed someone to listen... you can always come to me, okay? No matter what time." Mac tried a reassuring smile.  
  
Jeannine seemed to relax. Maybe she had been lucky with her new roommate. "Thank you, Pat," she said simply and then added: "My friends call me Janni." She held out her hand. Mac took it and squeezed it, feeling she might be able to be friends with this girl.  
  
They were silently putting Mac's clothes into her cupboard when Jeannine spoke up, just a hint of curiosity showing in her voice. Mac bit back a smile. "You're older than twenty, aren't you, Pat?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm twenty-four," she stated simply.  
  
"How's that - if you don't mind my asking."  
  
Mac knew that now the serious acting was about to begin. She took a deep breath. "I was sick."  
  
"I'm sorry, if you don't want to talk about it..." Jeannine seemed embarrassed.  
  
"No, it's okay," Mac said quietly, inwardly abhorring the thought of having to tell a lie that at the same time was deadly true for so many other people. But it couldn't be helped. "I was diagnosed with leukemia when I was nineteen. That's kept me out for quite a bit but a year ago I was finally strong enough to follow my dreams of joining the navy." 'Did I really say that?' she wondered.  
  
"Oh my God. You've been through a lot then, I imagine," Jeannine said compassionately.  
  
"Yes, I have," Mac confirmed, telling the truth this time. "Where are you from?" she changed the subject after a little silent interval.  
  
"Freeport, Maine. And you?"  
  
"Santa Monica, California. Do you have a big family back home?"  
  
"My dad died when I was thirteen. I've been living with my mom and my older Brother Jake ever since. He's in the navy, too, flying helicopters. My mom's a teacher." Jeannine smiled a sad smile. "I could never have come here if it wasn't for my scholarship. Music, you know, I'm the solo flute in the college marching band. What about you?"  
  
'Don't panic, Marine. Think of Harm and of how you want your family to be.' "I have two older sisters, Karen and Frances. They are working with my parents. My family's in IT business. I'm some sort of black sheep of the family, wanting to follow my grandpa's career at any cost." Mac gave her a mockingly frowning smile. Jeannine chuckled.  
  
"What are the others like?" Mac wanted to know. "Honestly."  
  
Jeannine sighed. "Well, most of them are nice, I suppose. But I'm not as lucky as you, Pat. They're gonna love you 'cause you're one of them. I'm no sparkling addition to society."  
  
'If you knew just how much I understand how you feel, Cadet,' Mac thought. Then she rolled her eyes. "Oh God, I hate those snobs. That's why I didn't want to come here in the first place. I started college in San Diego and the atmosphere's very easy down there. I was afraid that I might find just what you described up here. But they're not all like that, are they?"  
  
"No. Most of them, but some are really nice. My close friend Dorothy and her roommate, for example. They live next door to us. She and Cassandra sure are rich but they don't let it show. And we're all in the band. That's some kind of connection. They, me and Meryl, er, the girl who used to live here, we were quite a lucky clover leaf. Do you play?"  
  
Mac pointed her index to a big case on the floor. "Yep."  
  
Jeannine studied the form of the case, seemingly unsure what to make of it. "Ah... percussion?"  
  
"Yeah. Bass drum." Seeing Jeannine's dumbfounded expression she allowed herself a hearty laugh that had haunted her long before. "I'm not really into music, just doing my mom a favor. But if people are nice it's fun for me, too."  
  
Jeannine slightly slapped her on the shoulder. "Anyway, I'm glad you'll join us, Pat. You'll see just how much fun it'll be." They had finished unpacking. Mac felt herself taken by the arm by Jeannine.  
  
"Come on, Pat, I'll introduce you to Dorrie and Cass."  
  
Together they went to the adjoining apartment and Jeannine introduced Mac to a very tall redhead, Dorothy, who was a little stout and played the trombone, and to a handsome brunette about her own size, Cassandra, whose instrument was the French horn. They gave Mac a hearty welcome and immediately introduced the girls to the newest gossip.  
  
"Did you hear Laird is sick?" Dorothy asked excitedly.  
  
"No. Any reason to be happy, Dorrie? I thought we agreed to like him." Jeannine was confused. "And what about our concert?"  
  
"Of course I'd rather he were here," Dorothy admitted, "But without Meryl's clarinet I doubt we'll have our Benny-Goodman soirée at all. But," her excited smile returned, "You'll never guess who's been sent to replace Cmdr. Laird while he's ill. I heard it from Brandon," turning to Mac, "My older brother, you know, he's in school admin. They couldn't come up with a real music teacher this quickly so they requested..." she let her glance slowly wander from one curious face to the next one, "Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr.! And he agreed to help out!"  
  
"Oh my God!!!" Cassandra cried. "My hero ever since we saw that concert!"  
  
"What concert?" Mac asked innocently, inwardly jumping up and down at the mentioning of Harm's name.  
  
Three very astonished faces turned to her. "What, you didn't see that?" Jeannine asked, aghast.  
  
"No, what?" Mac replied with a laugh.  
  
"Dear Patricia, you missed the event of the year, speaking in navy terms, that is," Dorothy said. "There was a huge charity concert and each governmental or military institution was to send one of their personnel to play on stage. Our friend Meryl was supposed to play for the navy but she... well, she..."  
  
"Committed suicide," Mac cut in quietly.  
  
"Yeah... Anyway, Rabb replaced her with four days' knowledge and he played an awesome guitar concerto. He deeply impressed all of us. And he's awesome himself," Dorothy added. "Tough guy, aviator, you know, but now he's a lawyer with the JAG and he's sooo good-looking! And he's a great musician, very sensitive. A perfect man, if there's such a thing."  
  
'Tell me about it,' Mac thought happily. 'And there's so much you don't know about his qualities.' "Well, I'm getting curious to see that wonder guy," she stated dryly.  
  
"Don't get your nose up too high, Cadet," Cassandra warned her, laughing. "I'd bet a hundred dollars that you'll find him just as smashing as we all do."  
  
"We'll see," Mac retorted with a well-guarded smile. From the corner of her eye she had been observing Jeannine. Cadet Stiller had jumped at Harm's name but seemed to have realized by now that he must have kept his promise and come to help her. Mac sensed that the girl was slowly relaxing, even without knowing that direct protection had just moved into her apartment. Jeannine's eyes began to slightly shine with a barely noticeable trace of relief and gratefulness that could only be detected by someone who knew of her secret conversation with Harm.  
  
Just then a loud, old-fashioned bell was heard throughout the building.  
  
"Dinner!" Dorothy exclaimed happily. "I'm starving!"  
  
"When aren't you?" Cassandra snickered.  
  
"Shut up and come on, Cadet," Dorothy shouted. "I'm sure they'll introduce Rabb to the school now."  
  
"Oh my, I'm not going to miss that one!" Cassandra grabbed her key and closed the door behind the foursome. Then they hurried in the direction of the main building.  
  
  
  
Wed, May 20th 2214 ZULU Nick's World Wide Wafers Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Taking her latte macchiato and access-code card from the counter, Mac had butterflies creating uproar in her stomach. Accompanying Jeannine to her music teacher, she finally had the opportunity to go to the nearby Internet café to check her private email. She and Harm had agreed that it would be too dangerous to contact him from an on-campus terminal where there could always be someone peeping over her shoulder. She had seen Harm several times in the last few days, briefly. At the presentation, in the cafeteria, at the gym. But her class had not yet had music lessons and the band's rehearsals were on Thursdays.  
  
Mac knew well how Harm felt for her, she believed every word he said about it. But she still needed to hear it, needed audible or visible proof that he was still with her, though ignoring her completely. She reached her computer, put the glass down and logged on. Her heart did little jumps of joy when she found four messages from her sailor. Fortunately he had his private Internet access in his room.  
  
To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com) Subject: 05-17  
  
Hey, my beautiful one!  
  
It's 2341 and I guess you'll be a good girl and be asleep by now. Well done. Remember, tomorrow you gotta go to school. Don't stay up reading too long at night, okay?  
  
All right, that's it. I'll quit teasing 'cause somehow it doesn't help anyway. I think this is the first night I'm gonna spend by myself ever since our return from Venice. You have no idea how much I'm missing you right now, Sarah. I miss your goodnight kiss. I miss the way you drive me crazy, always getting up again when I just switched off the lights because you need some more water. I miss your warmth. I miss the wonderful certainty to wake up and see you first thing in the morning. And most of all I miss the way you comfort me when I'm scared of something. I tell you, I'm scared to no end.  
  
When I arrived I went to Captain Wells straight away and was very relieved when he told me that you'd already arrived. He assured me of his total assistance and cooperation and of Laird's secrecy, too. Then, to my utmost relief, he handed me a large pile of files Laird (God bless him!!!) had prepared for me: plans of studies for every class, what to expect of them, who's who, who could cause problems, who could be of support, how to handle the band's rehearsals, their projects etc. I owe that man, Mac. We'll have to think of something to reward him when this is over.  
  
Then, at dinner, all I wanted to do was vanish from the earth. Everybody openly or not so openly stared at me, teachers, girls, boys, personnel. Webb's gonna pay for that concert!!! I didn't know so many people watched those kinds of things. And the only direction I could have looked into without feeling uneasy was out of the question. I knew I had to avoid your eyes, my favorite Marine. As much as I longed to see them. Two or three times I allowed myself a quick glance, though, but you were always chatting with your neighbors. I began to doubt if you missed me at all - you seemed such a merry party. I see you already befriended Cadet Stiller. I was sure she'd like you. How could she not?  
  
I'll go to bed now, hoping sleep will make my Marine-less hours pass more quickly. Do you miss me, Sarah? Not that I wish you a heartache, but I'd like to think you wanted me around.  
  
I love you.  
  
Harm  
  
  
  
To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com) Subject: 05-18  
  
My dear Sarah,  
  
well, first day's over and things could have gone worse. Right now I'm a little blue because there's no reply from you, but I know you've got little opportunity to go off-campus. So, when you read this, don't neglect your bodyguard duties just to get to write more often. I know you write whenever you get round to it.  
  
Thank you so much for the reading glasses, Mac! They're terrific! Today was my first music lesson, first year. When I walked in, the cadets would whisper but they almost instantly came to attention in front of me, and I made them sit down and pulled out your glasses as I opened the class book to read the names. I felt much more respectable, you were right about that. And what's more, they create some kind of a shelter I can hide behind. What'd I do without you, my Marine?  
  
Anyway, the lesson went remarkably well. They're doing Richard Wagner at the moment, the 'Flying Dutchman', actually. Laird seems to have prepared his lessons several weeks in advance and he's written them out properly. So all I had to do was follow his guidance and see how it went. I guess I'm actually learning quite a bit myself about how to instruct people. Could come in handy one day, don't you think? By the time his plans end we'll either have this case wrapped up (and I can take you home with me) or at least I'll know how to teach. Laird is an angel!  
  
Last night was torture but somehow I survived it. I heard humans tend to adapt. Well, I hope I'll adapt to not having you with me, 'cause, one, I need sleep, and, two, it'll be all the more wonderful to get you back again!  
  
Love, miss and want you,  
  
Harm  
  
  
  
To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com) Subject: 05-19  
  
Hi there!  
  
Do you still exist? I'm sorry, I know you're maybe just as anxious as I am to get in touch, and more still because you can't. But still... seeing you walk by or being formally greeted by you when we meet hurts badly. I want your smile back! I don't know if I should look forward to or dread Thursday. I'll be seeing you twice, in class and at the rehearsal. It'll be dreadful to see you and yet not see you for three hours altogether.  
  
Today I did a little research. There's a nice guy here who works in administration, Lt. Brandon Anderson. I think his sister Dorothy's in your class. He gave me some background information on the people around when I told him I'd like to know whom I was working with. I checked the persons for their nationalities and I actually found out that there's a Columbian working as a civil private secretary to Wells. Her name is Maribel Gonzalez and guess what? Her younger brother's in your class, too. Look out for Pablo Gonzalez. He's the one. From what I hear, the Gonzalezes are a well- renowned family on the Island, very well connected with society. And two of Pablo and Maribel's cousins are attending the college, too. Ramon García is a first year, and Pedro Godoy's in fourth year. Of course they are American citizens but it seems that their grandparents are still in Columbia. I instantly paged Fred 'home' at JAG to gather some info on their background. Whatever. I know it may be unfair to suspect them just because of their nationality, but right now that's the only clue we've got. You try to get near Pablo, if possible, okay?  
  
By the way, Wells let me have the coroner's report. Did you ever wonder why a girl who committed suicide would be found in the middle of a parking lot? Well, I did. But the police explain it with a huge amount of alcohol they found in Cadet Waters's blood. So when they found with her the bill of the drugstore she - or whoever killed her - bought the responsible soporific at, they determined that the girl didn't care where she was, due to the alcohol, and took the pills as soon as she got off her car. An open bottle of mineral water was found next to her, too. So they thought it was an easy affair to settle: Cadet Waters committed suicide. Far too easy, but who likes to work overtime, huh?  
  
Take care, my favorite Marine, and feel hugged and kissed by  
  
Harm  
  
  
  
To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com) Subject: 05-20  
  
My dear Mac,  
  
I do hope you're okay! I mean, I know you are because I see you around but I'd like you to confirm it to me all the same to set me at ease. I'm doing okay, although I might need a little more sleep - maybe I'm the exception to the rule because I don't seem to adapt to Sarah-less sleep. But don't worry, you know it's hard to get rid of Harmon Rabb, Jr. I'll find a way to sleep. Do you know how to influence dreams, maybe?  
  
Lessons are going smoothly. People actually seem to like me, apart from that ridiculous fame Webb so kindly bestowed upon me... Yesterday it was the third year. History of jazz music. Nice topic, actually. Offers many possibilities to get into practice. Today I taught the fourth years. Decent guys, all of them. In third year, there are a few individuals who like to try things that could blow your lessons, but I'll handle them. (See me roll up my sleeves, Marine!) The seniors seem to have lost their wickedness. Talking to them about counterpoint theory wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Tomorrow it's up to you to show me how much I can teach you about cadences and harmonies.  
  
I got to know Maribel Gonzalez. Maybe you've seen her. She's the tall, rather good-looking woman with the tight bun of black hair. I had to go get some papers from Wells's office and she explained to me where to sign and so on. I invited her to the cafeteria afterwards and she told me quite a bit about society. She seems very keen on getting to know me 'cause she already invited me to at least four or five events. No, there's no need to be jealous! (Just in case...) I'll just play along a bit so I get access to the truly interesting people...  
  
I miss you so much, Sarah. Yours always,  
  
Harm  
  
  
  
Mac had indeed felt a slight sting of jealousy when Harm had told her about Maribel's interest in him. But she was afraid he'd feel just the same when he read her reply. Taking a soothing sip from her latte, Mac opened a 'compose'-box and began to write.  
  
  
  
Wed, May 20th 2338 ZULU Harm's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Harm opened his door, let his briefcase drop on the coffee table with a 'thud' and quickly strode over to his desk to switch on his computer. He had caught sight of Mac and Jeannine earlier when he'd finished writing to her and had been leaving his apartment for a teachers' meeting. Mac was going off-campus with Cadet Stiller - that could only mean she'd found an excuse to accompany Jeannine to her music teacher and wait for her at the Internet café, finally being able to write. His concentration during the meeting had merely been one of 'Stop fussing around, stay calm, Hammer!' Now he couldn't wait for his login procedure to conclude. His heart beating wildly, he saw the line he'd so much hoped for and quickly opened the message.  
  
  
  
To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com) Subject: Miss you?? Hell, yes!!!  
  
My dear flyboy,  
  
of course I miss you! What'd you think? I'm lying awake at night, shivering because I don't have your arms to wrap around and warm me! I miss waking up in your embrace and I miss your goodnight kisses, too! So much. I'm totally clueless about how I could ever do without you.  
  
I'm dreading tomorrow, too. I'm dreading to see you and not being able to talk to you. Properly, I mean. But - don't laugh - I'm dreading the rehearsal even more. You know, until now, lessons have gone rather smoothly for me, too. I've got a lot to do, yes, but I'm not so much out of learning as I feared I would be, and in most classes I'm actually a little ahead of the others. I never knew how much I must have learned in college! But the rehearsal will blow my cover. I see it coming. It'll never work!  
  
In private life, my cover works rather well, I daresay. Jeannine, Cadet Stiller, trusts me. Yesterday she told me her version of Meryl's death. All came out rather surprisingly. I had heard about Pablo's nationality from Dorothy. She seems to be just as talkative as her brother from what you tell me. My alarm went off instantly and I decided to get to know Pablo a little better. So after my Spanish lesson (first Spanish lesson in my life - luckily the class isn't very good at languages so it won't take me too long to catch up with them) I went to him and asked him if he could help me with my Spanish 'cause I didn't learn it in San Diego. He seemed a little surprised that a Californian wouldn't know any Spanish at all but he agreed. He seemed flattered, actually. He's a little older than the rest, too, you know, having started primary school at the age of eight because of the language. And he seems to be every girl's dream guy - besides you, that is, but somehow they seem to know you're out of the question. Anyway, we'll do a little learning every day after lunch. And he, too, has already invited me to some sort of a party. Maybe I'll meet you there with Maribel? Would be fun, don't you think?  
  
What was I talking about? Oh, yes, Meryl. When I told Jeannine about my 'good fortune' she became all quiet. I asked her what was up and she told me she didn't trust Pablo. You know what? He'd been going out with Meryl for several months! But right now he doesn't really seem to have a broken heart.  
  
Harm, I'm almost sure it's just a coincidence. Jeannine isn't, though. She gave me no hints to underline her suspicion, but upon urging her to spill her concerns she told me the whole story like she did to you back at JAG. When I asked her if she had any ideas about what might have bothered Cadet Stiller or at least where someone might find a hint at what it was, Jeannine said no. But she supplied one new piece to the puzzle. She said: "Meryl had been uneasy ever since she returned from the training cruise." "What training cruise?" I asked, and she explained to me that, during the whole year, groups of ten cadets are sent on cruises for practical training. They board an old frigate at Norfolk, go down to Kingston, Jamaica, and return to Norfolk, breaking the journey once in Miami.  
  
Jeannine is sure that whatever happened, happened in the course of the trip. Of course I asked her if she'd been to the police or to Wells or someone else. She showed me the letters her blackmailer keeps sending. I'd be scared to death, too, Harm, if I were the target! And then Jeannine would look at me with large frightened eyes and say that what she had just told me she'd told only her boyfriend and a trustworthy friend of his, with the help of whom she'd sneaked away to see you. I feigned astonishment when she revealed that she was sure you'd come to the college because of the case. I'm really surprised that Jeannine already trusts me so much. She didn't tell Dorothy or Cassandra, for instance, but then, they do love gossip and can't keep secrets.  
  
I don't think Pablo had anything to do with Meryl's death but he might be a link to someone responsible. Well, I'm gonna find out, and, yes, I'll be careful. You know I can take care of myself. I'm a Marine, flyboy! Gotta leave you for now, homework's calling... Don't you dare give us any assignments tomorrow!  
  
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.  
  
Sarah  
  
  
  
Smiling, Harm clicked on the 'save' button and shut down the program. So she did miss him. Doubting that would have been ridiculous, he was aware of that. But hearing it from Mac felt so good. Shaking his head at his irrational emotions, Harm took a legal pad and wrote down what hints she had supplied him with. He already hated Pablo Gonzalez, that he was sure of. Gonzalez got to see Mac in private every day, and obviously she'd at least have to fake some sort of interest in him. As he'd have to for Maribel. With a deep sigh Harm busied himself with preparing lessons for the following day.  
  
  
  
Thur, May 21st 1900 ZULU Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
"Oh my God, I'm so nervous!" Cassandra said under her breath. Mac just smiled at her, a little exasperated. She'd heard nothing but comments similar to this one from almost every girl in her class since the morning, and lunch break hadn't eased the tension. Inwardly, Mac was sure that her own nervousness by far exceeded that of any other girl in her vicinity but she couldn't let it show. Seemingly disinterested, she was sitting at her desk in the last row of the classroom, right next to a slightly pale Jeannine, while one row in front of them Dorothy and Cassandra were literally dancing with excitement.  
  
Suddenly, Mac felt her heart skip a beat when Danny, the boy seated next to the door, shouted: "Attention on deck!"  
  
All sprung to their feet and came to attention, trying not to focus on the door as a tall, dark-haired figure appeared in the classroom.  
  
"Good afternoon, Cadets," Harm said good-naturedly.  
  
"Good afternoon, sir!" twenty voices shouted back.  
  
"At ease. Sit down," Harm replied with a hint of his flyboy-smile. "By now I'm sure gossip's been all around the school about who I am and why I'm here, but just to keep up the tradition of civil behavior, I'll introduce myself. I'm Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., former naval aviator and now a lawyer with the Judge Advocate General Corps. One of my friends - at least I used to call him that until three weeks ago - talked me into replacing Cadet Meryl Waters in the governmental charity concert after her tragic death.  
  
So maybe it was just a matter of time, when your music teacher, Cmdr. Laird, became ill, that the navy asked me again to step in, as they knew I had some rudimentary knowledge about music and they couldn't come up with a fully qualified replacement quickly enough. So, first of all, I ask you for your full cooperation. I know people like to play tricks on inexperienced teachers - well, I did - but let me tell you one thing: We can start on friendly terms and have fun or you can meet my... uhm, let's say, combat experience on dealing with you. As far as I'm concerned I'd vote the first option, simply because I love music and I'd like you to come to love it as well."  
  
'Good job, flyboy,' Mac thought proudly as Harm had ended and let his friendly but firm gaze wander from face to face. When he met her eyes he was careful to stare right through her, giving Mac a moment's sting of disappointment, but she understood.  
  
Harm now pulled his - her - reading glasses from his pocket and put them on. 'Not bad,' Mac judged contently. Then Harm took the class book from his desk and opened it at the class list. Reading one name at a time, he made the bearer of the name stand up to try and memorize the names, at the same time asking if the person in question played an instrument and if he or she was a member of the marching band.  
  
After 'Odenberg, Cassandra', it was Mac's turn.  
  
"O'Hara, Patricia," Harm read.  
  
Mac jumped to her feet. "Sir!"  
  
"I hear you're a newcomer, Cadet O'Hara."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Well, I hope you'll get accustomed to your new surroundings without any major problems."  
  
"Thank you, sir, I hope so, sir."  
  
"Any instruments, Cadet?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Bass drum. I'll be a member of the marching band, sir."  
  
Harm slightly lifted his eyebrows. "Bass drum, Cadet O'Hara? Rare choice for a young lady, isn't it?"  
  
'Ha ha, flyboy. Wait till I get back to you for that one.' "I guess so, sir." Mac wondered what else she was supposed to say about it.  
  
"Okay, stupid question on my part. Continue, Cadet." Harm's smile had widened a little.  
  
"Aye, sir," Mac said, sitting down and enjoying the stifled laughter that could be heard at Harm's admittance.  
  
"Peddersen, Gary..."  
  
The lesson went quite well. Harm introduced several easy cadences to write down, and he played them to the students on the little keyboard that Laird used for music theory. Letting them hear the cadences in several rhythms, he asked the students if they could imagine what song he had in mind that was accompanied using the given cadence in the rhythm he proposed. The members of the marching band were to write down the answers, being 'professionals' and familiar with harmonic theory, the others could try guessing with Harm's help. Mac was glad that she would be asked to write and give her sheet to Harm directly, so no one would notice if she failed. But after the second example she got the idea and when Harm came to her to collect her answers, he cast a quick glance on what she'd written and gave her a barely noticeable 'Well-done-Marine!' flyboy-grin. Then the bell rang, announcing the end of the lesson.  
  
"I'll see some of you in twenty minutes at the gym for rehearsal. All others have a nice day." Harm collected his things, made the class stand at attention again, saluted and exited the room. The door had barely closed when the gossip began.  
  
"Now, that was nice!" Dorothy stated.  
  
"I love his voice," Cassandra sighed longingly.  
  
Danny snorted. "Girls, get down to earth again. He's no demigod, you know."  
  
Cassandra just glared back at him, Mac had difficulties to stifle her laughter. But inwardly she was relieved this first encounter was over and her flyboy had done really well.  
  
"Hola, Patricia!" Pablo walked over to Mac and Jeannine and casually put his arm around Mac's waist, making her jump. He raised an eyebrow in mock astonishment. "Mi estudiante tiene miedo?" he asked. [My student is afraid?]  
  
Mac forced herself to smile, leaned into his arm and played the flattered girl, frantically collecting the few bits of Spanish she'd learnt during the last two days. "Uhm... no. Yo no... uhm... tengo miedo. Me... uhm... alegro de... uhm... encontrarte." [No. I'm not afraid, I'm glad to see you.] 'Phooo...' she thought. 'That was close. Try to think he's Harm, Marine. You gotta seem attracted to him!'  
  
"You don't seem too impressed by Mr. Wonder-Prof., Pat," Pablo stated, smiling self-consciously. "Rabb's charms didn't work on you?"  
  
'You have no idea!' Inwardly sighing, Mac smiled innocently. "I have a slightly different taste when it comes to men."  
  
Pablo drew her just a little closer. "And what might that be, Cadet O'Hara?"  
  
Mac gave him a sly wink, slowly wriggled out of his semi-embrace and turned to leave the room. "Try and find out, Cadet Gonzalez," she said upon exiting the room.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, a very nervous and pale Mac was standing in the middle of a row of three at the end of a formation of ten rows altogether. She carried her drum in front of her, being the only female cadet in the percussion group. In the front row she could make out Jeannine with her piccolo flute, Pablo was walking two rows behind with his clarinet, next to him one person was missing, probably Meryl. In the sixth and seventh row Mac saw Cassandra's dark plait and Dorothy's red curls. 'I can't see where I'm walking,' she thought, frowning, still searching the best position for her head to see the little clip that her score was attached to on top of her drum, as well as her feet. 'This thing's too big!'  
  
When Harm came to take his position in front of the band, all she could make out of him was an occasional flick of his baton that went high enough to be seen from the back. 'This is going to be the end of it,' Mac thought, preparing to meet her destiny.  
  
"I never conducted a marching band before," she heard Harm say. "So give me a little support, will you? Try to focus on Cadet Stiller as well as me. Cmdr. Laird told me she knew how to keep you in line. I suggest for today we just get to know each other by playing something you know well. I was thinking about 'The Stars and Stripes'. We'll do it once standing here and then we'll play it again marching around the gym, to give me the possibility to get used to conducting while walking. Any objections?"  
  
"No, sir!" The band seemed eager to please him.  
  
Feeling a strong instinct to run away and hide, Harm raised his baton and tried to recollect everything Burns had taught him. But then, surprisingly, after the first bars the music's own dynamics took over and the band played swiftly, making Harm notice at once that he had gifted students to work with, students who wouldn't let him down.  
  
Mac had faked her first two or three strikes, afraid to hit her drum in an interval. But slowly she grew more confident of herself and soon her 'thump- thump-thump' mingled into the general sound. And to her amazement Mac noticed that she was beginning to have fun! Being inside the music, being a part of where it generated, was totally different from listening from the outside. A smile began to spread over her face. Harm watched her from the corner of his eye and started to relax when he saw the color slowly return to her face and the usual sparkle brighten her eyes.  
  
When the piece was over Harm gave the musicians a few appreciating words and then turned around to walk in front of them. He felt strange, lifting his arms up high and directing no one he could see. But when he started, he heard the introduction playing behind him. They were marching on the spot for eight bars and then started to walk forward. Harm felt a little ridiculous but it seemed to work, so he just went on, hoping no one that really mattered would see him.  
  
After two rounds on the gym, Mac started to get accustomed to drumming on pace. The only thing she didn't like was that she still didn't see where she was walking. But assuming that twenty-seven cadets had just trodden the same path as she was about to, she might as well do it as not.  
  
The unthinkable happened in lap three. Gary, playing the chimes in the eighth row and being allergic to the grass that was growing all over the place, tried to suppress a powerful sneeze but failed miserably. The quick, forceful movement that his body made while sneezing knocked his music clip off his chimes, causing the boy with the snare drum, who walked behind him, to stumble and fall. Mac noted the sudden movement, but it was already too late. She stepped onto the boy's leg, lost her balance and tumbled right over him, hitting her head hard on the edge of her drum. "OUW!!" she yelled before everything around her slipped into darkness.  
  
"Cadet O'Hara!" she heard a well-known voice break through the clouds that were hanging around her consciousness. Her eyes tried to focus on the speaker. She became aware of Harm kneeling at her side and holding her head, concern written across his face in bold letters.  
  
"Ha... Commander Rabb, sir," she murmured groggily, hoping she'd been quick enough to correct her near mistake.  
  
Harm's face softened in relief. "Are you okay, Cadet? Does it hurt somewhere?"  
  
"Head," she mumbled, trying to stay awake and trying as well to ignore the constant throbbing she felt behind her forehead.  
  
"Stay with her and make sure she doesn't move, I'm going to get someone from the infirmary," she heard him say. Then she felt her head taken by someone else.  
  
"Hey, Pat, don't pull stunts like that!" she heard Pablo say smugly. "You'll spoil the show!"  
  
"You alright, Pat?" That was Jeannine.  
  
Mac tried a smile. "Yeah, I guess. I'll just get myself checked over and join you before the day is over."  
  
By now Harm was already back with two nurses who carried her to the infirmary. Pablo walked beside her, holding her hand, causing Harm heavy fits of jealousy that he had to work hard not to show. When they arrived Harm told Pablo to go and tell the rest of the band that the rehearsal was over for today. He would be allowed to see Cadet O'Hara right before dinner for a few minutes. And Pablo should tell Cadet Stiller to come over with some of Cadet O'Hara's things, just in case she'd have to stay the night. Harm knew Mac wouldn't need to stay but he didn't want to leave Jeannine without protection, so she'd better come to sit with them.  
  
Pablo slightly patted Mac's cheek as he would his dog and as he brushed a kiss to Mac's forehead Harm fought hard not to jump at him and shout "Mine!"  
  
When the doctor had checked Mac and confirmed that she had a slight concussion, Harm sent Jeannine to get some tea from the hospital kitchen and enjoyed having Mac to himself for a few minutes, even though it was under bad circumstances.  
  
Gently, he traced the outlines of her face with his fingertips. She opened her eyes.  
  
"Hey, flyboy."  
  
"Hey, Marine. You had me scared out there."  
  
"Won't kill me." She made a face, her eyes smiling, though.  
  
Harm smiled. "No. But that's what you said when you returned from the dentist. And the traces rested for two weeks. That's exactly what's going to happen now."  
  
Mac frowned. "Don't tell me I'm blue all over."  
  
He sighed. "Not yet, but the swelling on your forehead tells me you'll be in a few hours."  
  
"Damn. I was so glad the yellow on my jaw had finally faded away." Mac was frustrated. She hated thick layers of make-up.  
  
"Hey, don't fret, my beautiful one," Harm softly replied. "I love every color you're inclined to show me."  
  
"Ha ha..." she made, grinning. "But one thing's great about this incident. I finally get to talk to you, sailor. I've been missing you so much."  
  
"And I you," he admitted, lowering his head to make their lips meet in a soft kiss. "This will keep me alive until you knock your head against something hard again, Marine."  
  
She playfully slapped him on the arm. "Hey, you could at least feel sorry for me, squid!"  
  
"I do," he grinned, sobering quickly when he saw her pale and frantically grab for the recipient at the side of her bed. Supporting her back, he helped her sit and steadied her while she was being sick - side effect of her concussion. When she had finally regained her even breathing, he eased her back onto her pillow and then carried the recipient over to the sink, returning with a wet washcloth and a glass of water.  
  
"Thanks, Harm," she said gratefully. "Feels good to be taken care of by you."  
  
"That's the purpose of the whole exercise," he retorted with a smile, gently wiping her cheeks and forehead.  
  
Just then Jeannine returned with a cup of tea and Harm reluctantly let go of Mac's hand and again became her professor.  
  
  
  
Sat, May 30th 2341 ZULU The Gonzalezes' residence Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Harm had been dreading the evening. Ever since he had noticed that Pablo and Mac seemed to become a couple he couldn't bear seeing them together. And here he was, actually dating Pablo's sister, going to a party at her parents' where he would most probably run into no one else than his Mac, who was able to join them because Jeannine was off to watch some Broadway show with Dorothy, Cassandra and Brandon.  
  
Twice a week, Mac made it off the campus, always accompanying Jeannine to her music teacher. They had made it a habit going together, the girl obviously unaware that she was being protected. So twice a week, Harm would get mail from his jarhead, long, beautiful, heart-warming letters he looked forward to, relished and re-read countless times. But that just wasn't enough. He'd have to come up with something quickly or he'd explode from the pressure his suppressed emotions were creating inside his soul.  
  
"Hey, you with me, Harmon?" he heard Maribel say while walking up the steps to the front porch and stopping in front of the door. "You seem far away. Tonight you're supposed to enjoy yourself."  
  
"I'm sorry. I just thought about the test I've got to prepare for the third years on Monday." He gave her his patented grin and witnessed its effect as she leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek.  
  
"Forget school, professor. You'll meet a lot of interesting people, have nice food and dance with me. Doesn't that sound a nice alternative?"  
  
"Yep." He grinned, put his hand on the small of her back and led her inside, tensing at once as the first thing that greeted him from the other side of the door was Mac's laughter.  
  
Maribel presented him first to her parents and then to everyone else, wearying him quite a bit for there were at least fifty people present. The huge garden was lit by hundreds of little colored lights, and next to the illuminated swimming pool the churrasco grill was emanating the aroma of fresh well-spiced steaks. Harm only hoped there were some corn cobs he could stick to. Well, at least Mac was supplied with dead cow, he stated to himself with a slight grin.  
  
Mac. Where was she? Harm turned around and then saw her, leaning into Pablo's arm and chatting with his cousins. She took his breath away. To look younger, she had dressed in a very short skirt and a fitting top that let show her belly-button. She wore sandals with not too high heels and looked a natural beauty, not as stylish as Maribel but a million times more beautiful to him.  
  
During dinner he had no opportunity to get near to her. She was seated at the opposite end of the table. So Harm had no choice but to converse with an overly excited Maribel and some deadly boring members of high society. He decided to at least make good use of the time by memorizing every name and face connected to the Gonzalez family. Maybe he'd need this knowledge when it came to solving their case. After dinner, a Cuban band began to play and Maribel dragged Harm onto the wooden dance-floor, encircling him in her arms and forcing him to play along.  
  
Mac had been trying all evening not to look over to where Harm and his new 'girlfriend' were sitting. Maribel surely was a stunning woman, she grudgingly admitted to herself. In her simple yellow dress that was cut dangerously low to her bust and with her long black hair falling down on her shoulders and back, she was the kind of woman who could make a guy fall for her whether he wanted to or not. In her heart Mac knew that she could be sure of Harm's feelings for her, but seeing him with this woman still bothered her. When Pablo took her hand and led her to the dance floor she had a difficult time refraining from following Harm and Maribel with her eyes. And when, for a few seconds, Harm and Mac's eyes would meet, they instantly knew this evening was torture to both of them. But at least Mac had all the time and leisure to get to know Pablo's cousins and the rest of the family, and she was sure Harm was doing just the same thing.  
  
When Harm finally got home at about 0200, he found his answering machine blinking wildly. He pushed the button.  
  
"Hi Harm, this is Fred. It's now Saturday evening, 2100 hours, and I just got interesting information on the things you asked me about. Do feel free to call me back whenever you return, buddy."  
  
Harm grinned. It must have cost Fred quite a bit of courage to talk this freely to his superior even though they were friends. But they had agreed not to let show who he was if he were to leave a message. 'Do feel free - I guess that means it's urgent,' Harm thought. Hesitating only a moment, he dialed Fred's private cell-phone.  
  
  
  
Sun, May 31st 2045 ZULU Nick's World Wide Wafers Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Wednesdays and Sundays were the lucky days. The lucky days Mac could get in touch with Harm while waiting for Jeannine to return from her music lesson next door. Sipping her latte macchiato, Mac impatiently logged on and found what she was looking for.  
  
  
  
To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com) Subject: Torment  
  
My favorite Marine,  
  
it's 0320 and I'm unable to sleep once again. This party nearly killed me. You were stunning, Sarah. I could hardly take my eyes off you and still had to play along with Maribel's boring ways. I had to dance with her cheek to cheek and had to witness how you were doing the same with her brother. Mac, I can't stand this situation any longer. I'd go insane. So please, please, tell me you have no plans for next weekend. Brandon told me yesterday that he and Dorothy are going to take Jeannine home with them on Friday evening, and they'll not get back before Sunday at dinnertime.  
  
So you're off duty, jarhead, as am I, and I'm all but dying to see you. Tell your 'boyfriend' whatever you like, that you're flying to California to see your parents, whatever, and then meet me on Friday at 1800 hours at Times Square. I've been told that the cadets are allowed out at 1600, first Friday of the month. So, please, Mac, come and wear something fancy, really fancy, okay? And bring something comfortable for the night and the next day. That's all I'm gonna say now. One hint: I'm your professor. I gotta do something for your education. (See me grin...)  
  
Okay, back to business. I had astonishing news from Fred yesterday night. He checked the Gonzalezes' backgrounds and found they're a very extended family, owners of various firms. But that's what we already guessed, didn't we? What we didn't think about was where the firms were located. Well, here's the list our brave Italian friend came up with: First, there is the brother of Juan Gonzalez, Jesús Gonzalez. So he's Pablo and Maribel's uncle. Jesús Gonzalez owns the family hazienda back in Columbia, coffee plantation, at least officially, no one can possibly know for sure, up in the mountain rainforest, right? Just thinking.  
  
Then there's another uncle, Gabriel García, their mother's brother. He owns a textile mill in Cartagena, Columbia, which is at the Caribbean coast. Nice place to ship anything to and from. Just thinking, right?  
  
Follow me north, Mac, and we come to... Kingston, Jamaica. Maribel and Pablo's cousin Graciela Godoy owns a firm there, imports and exports of agricultural goods. In Kingston, now isn't this a coincidence, Mac? Destination of the college's cruises... just thinking.  
  
From there Fred traced their little chain of business up to... can you guess? Right, Miami. A second cousin, Fernando García, has another import/export firm right there. Odd, isn't it?  
  
And the final destination of our journey is... right again, Mac. Norfolk. Juan Gonzalez himself runs his business down there - a shipping company. Tsk, tsk, tsk, quite a lot of coincidences... sorry, just thinking.  
  
Mac, I think we've got something reeeaaally big here. I'm going to contact Clay about what we found out. You just stick to Jeannine and, as much as I hate to say it, to Pablo. Try to sneak a bit whenever you can, okay? If Pablo wants you to himself without Jeannine around, just send her over to me on the pretext that I'd like her to instruct me a bit about running a marching band. According to Laird she seems to be some sort of a concertmaster to the band.  
  
Sarah, I can't tell you how much I'm longing for Friday to arrive. I think I might very well develop an internal clock just like yours until then for I'm counting every single second.  
  
I miss you so much, my beautiful Marine. Love,  
  
Harm  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	3. Chapter three

'Dissonance' - Chapter Three Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Chapter One  
  
  
  
Tue, June 2nd 2231 ZULU Harm's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Harm jumped when the telephone started ringing. Today his third year students had managed to completely tire him out. They had been a little troublesome from the start and with today's weather's inclination to heavy thunderstorms, things had gone wild. They had been talking about Dixieland Jazz and a cadet had brought his banjo. Everyone had paid attention as Harm had explained how the student's instrument worked and where to find the differences between a banjo and other instruments of the same family, like a guitar, for instance. Of course, Harm had brought his guitar along to let them see and hear what he meant.  
  
But after the practical part of the lesson, Harm had gone back to the peculiarities of Dixie instrumentation and it was then the chaos had started to erupt. The banjo boy had started making funny noises with the chords of his instrument, and once laughter had spread in the general class mood, all had quickly followed the path down to ridicule and had started to laugh at practically everything, unable to fight the urge to snort without reason.  
  
At first Harm had played along a little, thinking once the joke was made the students would calm down again. At least this concept had already worked once in Mac's class when a laughing epidemic had threatened to spread. But this time it didn't work. Before long Harm had found himself shouting like a drill sergeant, distributing reprimands and extra assignments until he had frightened the class back to discipline.  
  
Upon arriving home, Harm had only flopped into the nearest armchair and had dozed off almost immediately. Now the phone brutally woke him from his soothing dreams of a certain Marine colonel. On the fourth ring Harm had come to his senses and grabbed the receiver.  
  
"Rabb," he said, still a little disoriented.  
  
"Commander Rabb," he heard a calm, friendly voice greet him form the other end of the line, "This is Lieutenant Commander Peter Laird. Am I disturbing you, sir?"  
  
Harm pulled himself up into a comfortable sitting position and stifled a yawn. "No, absolutely not, Commander." He tried hard to sound awake. "I was just relaxing a bit after an especially tiring lesson."  
  
"Let me guess, third year students, sir?" Harm detected sympathy and slight amusement in the teacher's voice.  
  
"Yep." Chuckling slightly, Harm asked: "So they're like that all the time?"  
  
"Almost," Laird confirmed, obviously still smiling. "But once you tell them unmistakably where their place is they'll pull themselves together, sir."  
  
"Well, then from now on things should go smoothly," Harm stated, hoping Laird was right.  
  
He heard the lieutenant commander chuckle. "I see. Sir, actually I wanted to talk to you about something."  
  
"I'll be at your service, Commander. But first I wanted to thank you," Harm said sincerely. "Without your thorough preparation I don't know if I'd have managed to make things go as easily as they have gone so far. I owe you for that."  
  
Laird sounded embarrassed. "No big deal, sir. I like being prepared and I imagine what it must be like being thrown into a totally unknown situation. I just thought I could help."  
  
"You sure did, Commander. As I said, I owe you. Thanks again. But now tell me: What can I do for you?"  
  
"Nothing, sir, actually," Laird answered. "I just wanted to ask you if you decided yet what you'd do about the Benny-Goodman project."  
  
Harm had been expecting the question sooner or later. "Honestly, Commander, I don't know," he answered, sighing. "When Cadet Odenberg told me about it, I was hoping we could... well, make you come back again soon." Harm was careful not to mention the investigation on the telephone. He had no idea if the line was secure. Laird instantly got the concept.  
  
"Me, too, sir. But it seems my recovery will take longer than I thought. So I wanted to assure you of my full assistance and cooperation for the concert as far as I can offer it being ill. Sir..." Laird hesitated, seemingly unsure how to approach what he wanted to say. "Permission to speak freely?"  
  
"Go ahead, Commander," Harm encouraged him.  
  
"Sir, ever since I came up with the idea of this soirée, the band has been excited about it. Of course, when Cadet Waters suddenly died, the rehearsals were forgotten, the tragedy overshadowing all that was going on. But now I start getting emails from the band members asking me what would become of our plans. Captain Wells has good connections to someone in the administration of Carnegie Hall, you know. We were actually planning to do it there. It would be a dream for the band to be on that stage."  
  
Harm had slightly paled upon guessing where Laird was headed. "I imagine, Commander," he choked out, trying not to let his fear show.  
  
"Sir, for the sake of the students who have worked so hard for entire months, I beg you not to cancel the concert. If I may I'd like to add that ever since your arrival I keep getting emails from many of my students, especially from those who are part of the marching band, who tell me that you're doing a great job. They love you and your unorthodox ways of rehearsing. Cadet Stiller tells me you rely on her experience and she thinks the band draws advantage from a little change of style from time to time. She's as sure as I am that you can pull this off, sir."  
  
Harm swallowed hard. Carnegie Hall. There were so many places all over the States one could have really nice concerts in. But it had to be Carnegie Hall of all of them. The hall of fame. Now wasn't he lucky once again? He frowned, thinking of how disappointed the cadets would be if he said no.  
  
"What about the first clarinet?" he asked instead of replying directly to Laird's plea. "Without Cadet Waters I don't see how we can play Goodman at all."  
  
Laird sighed heavily. "That's indeed a problem, sir. Gonzalez plays decently but he's not up to being a soloist. There's Cadet Hannah Brown in first year who right now figures as our substitute. Technically, she'd be able to do it but she's way too shy to do a proper soloist's interpretation. Apart from her, there's no one right now. But I promise you, Commander, that I'll come up with someone skilled if you agree to have the concert."  
  
At a loss about what he could do to prevent it, Harm gave in. "All right, Cmdr. Laird. I'll do it. When's the concert supposed to be?"  
  
"Three weeks from now, sir, on Sunday 21st of June. First weekend is out of the question with everyone going home, but after that you'll be able to dispose of the musicians' time to full extent. They're used to it and actually enjoy the excitement of constant rehearsal. But don't worry, you can leave a lot of that to Cadet Stiller. She's good at rehearsing and, strange as it seems, people tend to listen to what she says." He fell silent for a moment, but Harm didn't say anything, sensing Laird was not done yet.  
  
"Thank you, Cmdr. Rabb," Laird finally said with a heartfelt sigh. "You don't know how much this means to me and to the band. I'll owe you now."  
  
"Let's just say we're equal, Commander," Harm replied, smiling to himself, wondering silently how much weirder things would still get in the course of this assignment. With a deep sigh he rose and got himself a bottle of water from the fridge. Sitting down again and running his hand through his hair, he forlornly stared at the telephone, longing to call Mac.  
  
'Now it gets tricky, Hammer,' he silently said to himself. 'You didn't ever imagine being on stage in a Carnegie-Hall concert, did you?'  
  
Just then, God had mercy with his faithful servant and made the telephone ring. It wasn't Mac but a solution to one of his problems, instead.  
  
"Rabb."  
  
"Good evening, Commander. This is Lt. Prumetti."  
  
"Fred, now that's a welcome voice," Harm greeted his young friend, "And I'm off duty, so call me Harm. What brings this about?"  
  
"Just wanted to know if everything was all right, you know, apart from the job." Fred seemed a little unsure about how to address Rabb the friend, not Rabb the commander.  
  
Harm grinned, pleased to see people back in D.C. were caring about their well-being. "Tell the admiral we're holding up, Fred. Mac's gradually transforming into a decent musician, actually. I can see she enjoys being a part of the group. Who'd have guessed?" He chuckled softly and heard soft chuckling from the other end of the line, too.  
  
[A.N.: It isn't as improbable as it may seem that Mac actually develops her musicality this quickly. I can tell from my own orchestral experience, but actually I was thinking of a scene of "Mr. Holland's opus" where Holland succeeds to teach a boy to play the bass drum in no time, and the boy isn't musical at all. It's just hard work. We know Mac to be hardworking and rhythmical as well, so...]  
  
"I'm glad to hear it," Fred stated. "For me it always used to feel like being 'high', being part of an orchestra. I remember the first time we'd try the second movement of the fourth symphony of Brahms - afterwards I'd walk home like someone not from this world. It was like the music had swept me away!" Harm could hear Fred was getting more enthusiastic all the time. Curiosity made him cut in, though.  
  
"Wait a minute, you play?"  
  
"Yes. Back in Venice, I studied music with the Conservatorio Benedetto Marcello. You know, people normally don't take private music lessons in Italy. Either they start conservatory as children, study their ten years parallel to school, pass the exams and get a music degree or they don't play at all. There's no such thing as a private music culture in Italy. But, as I said, I got to study music and for three years was first clarinet in the conservatory orchestra, at times even helping out at La Fenice when the opera-house musicians were on strike once again..."  
  
Harm inhaled sharply, causing Fred to interrupt himself, confused. "Did you just say 'clarinet', Lieutenant?" he asked.  
  
Fred instantly snapped back to military mode. "Yes, sir."  
  
Harm had jumped to his feet in sudden excitement. This wasn't a coincidence - this was providence! "Why did you never tell us?"  
  
"You never asked, sir." Now that was a typical Fred-ish statement. 'Always the modest gentleman, this guy,' Harm thought with a huge grin. "Lieutenant, tell the admiral I request your immediate assistance at Dwayne Myers from Monday, June 8th until Sunday, June 21st. And bring your instrument. That's an order."  
  
"A... aye, sir." Fred sounded totally taken aback. "May I ask why, sir?"  
  
Harm's grin could be heard over the line right back in Fred and Claire's living-room in Rosslyn, and Claire watched in silent amusement as her fiancé's face suddenly turned white. He had to sit down in a nearby armchair, hearing the commander say: "You'll save me and the marching band from canceling a Carnegie-Hall concert, Lt. Prumetti. You'll take the soloist's part in our grand Benny-Goodman soirée!"  
  
  
  
Thur, June 4th 1957 ZULU Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
"F...fforget it!!!" Mac saved herself from shouting something not too nice, once again quickly trying to brush off the stain that showed clearly on her skirt. She knew why she hated white. She knew why she just loved her marine uniforms. She knew why she would have to quit drinking coffee for the next weeks and also quit sitting down on the grass. And she just hated it. Rubbing hard with a soapy edge of her towel, she managed to make the fresh stain bleach remarkably - but on a close look it could still be seen and right now she didn't have the time to change her uniform.  
  
It was the fourth day now that cadets were to wear their ordinary summer whites and at the end of each day Mac had carried yet another skirt or blouse to be cleaned. This had to stop now, for she had only one set left.  
  
"Pat, you coming?" Jeannine asked worriedly, standing in the open apartment door, her flute case in her hand.  
  
"Yeah," Mac answered, straightening her shirt and applying a little compact powder to her forehead where the last remainders of her collision with her drum were finally fading away. Then she joined Jeannine, grabbed her instrument and they headed over to the gym where the rest of the band was already assembled, including Harm who - surprisingly enough - somehow managed to be punctual to his lessons.  
  
"Nice of you to join us, Cadets," came his half-grinning remark, accompanied by a glance on his watch. Mac and Jeannine snapped to attention.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, if we kept you waiting," Mac shouted, inwardly fuming at Harm's attitude and herself giving him the reason. "But, with all due respect, sir, I believe we still have 23 seconds."  
  
Harm had to fight hard to refrain from laughing. 'My Marine...' he thought, inwardly chuckling. "Right. Now get in line."  
  
"Aye, sir!"  
  
"At ease, everyone," Harm began, clearing his throat. "I received a call from Lt. Cmdr. Laird two days ago. First of all he tells me to say hello to you all and tell you he keeps getting better. But with mononucleosis you have to be patient. Anyway, we talked about the Benny-Goodman project and..." seeing his students hold their breath, he took a little dramatic break, "We decided there will be a concert in Carnegie Hall on Sunday, June 21st", he finished with a content grin.  
  
"Yes!" Danny shouted, making a fist, then quickly sobering and adding. "Excuse me, sir."  
  
"You're welcome, Cadet." Harm tried not to let his grin get too wide.  
  
"Excuse me, sir," Jeannine ventured carefully, a frown showing on her face.  
  
"Yes, Cadet Stiller?"  
  
"Sir, what about the soloist? Without Meryl, er..., Cadet Waters?" Everyone's eyes turned on Harm.  
  
"Taken care of, Cadet," Harm replied with the hint of a smile. "A friend of mine, an Italian navy lawyer, who's right now participating in the officers' exchange program and working with us at JAG back in Falls Church, studied music in Venice and has volunteered to play the solo clarinet." 'Well, sort of,' he silently added to himself. "Lt. Prumetti will be joining us next week for rehearsals that will be held every day at 1600 for the next two weeks, starting on Monday, not excluding the weekends."  
  
At this, more stifled cheers could be heard. Harm was relieved that the reaction was positive. He had feared the band wouldn't want a 'grown up' in their lines. But then, Fred was just a few years older than the rest of them. They'd have fun.  
  
"Sir?" Cassandra shyly stepped out of line, her cheeks slightly flushed and her voice a little hoarse.  
  
Harm smiled. "Yes, Cadet Odenberg?"  
  
"Uhm..., sir, I think I can speak for all of us if I say how much this means to us. Thank you so much, sir, for going along with this plan. I mean, you didn't have to and... well... maybe you don't feel you really want to do all the extra work and don't feel too well about this but we'll never forget that you're actually doing this for us." She looked down on her feet with a shy smile. The entire band was nodding.  
  
Harm was touched. 'Heck, Hammer, you can pull this off, you have to. Look at those guys! You can't let them down!' Feeling a little embarrassed himself he again cleared his throat and with his hand rubbed his neck. "Uhm... you're welcome, Cadet. Just promise me, all of you, you'll help me through this, right? 'Cause..." He grinned and put his finger to his lips like a conspirator. "...and this is off-record, understood?" They nodded eagerly. "'Cause I'm pretty scared to walk up on that stage. I need your full support or we all can forget this thing. Did I make myself clear?"  
  
"Yes, sir!" they shouted, all smiling broadly, proud that Harm had considered them trustworthy enough to speak freely.  
  
Casually looking into several faces, Harm for some seconds caught Mac's gaze and felt his heart swell at what he saw: in her eyes were shining pride for her brave man, joy for being a part of the group, anticipation and excitement regarding the upcoming events and, most of all, pure and unconditional love for him, brought to the surface for the briefest moment by the efforts he was making to save his students' dream, even if for him it meant doing something he dreaded.  
  
He was shaken from his daydreams by Jeannine's voice. "Sir, do you have a copy of the score to send to your friend?"  
  
"Actually, no, Cadet. Thank you for reminding me. Do you know where I could find one?"  
  
"I don't know for sure, sir, but I think Meryl's copy is in the attic together with her things. I... I could get it for you after the rehearsal if you like." Harm could tell Jeannine was uneasy at the thought of searching between her dead friend's personal belongings.  
  
"Thank you, Cadet Stiller. I'd very much appreciate that. Let Cadet O'Hara help you, so it won't take too long." 'And you'll have someone to cling to if it gets too hard', he silently added. Maybe Mac would even be able to dig up something useful for their investigation.  
  
"Yes, sir." Jeannine sounded relieved.  
  
"Now," Harm turned to address the whole group again, "Go get your music- stands. No marching today. I'd like to hear how much is still left to do before going on stage. So I'll know what we've got when Lt. Prumetti shows up next week."  
  
"Aye, sir!" all shouted eagerly, putting their instruments down and hurrying to get ready to show the commander just what they were able to do when properly motivated to give their best.  
  
  
  
Fri, June 5th 2251 ZULU Ladies' restrooms Marriott Marquis Hotel Times Square New York City, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Mac critically surveyed herself in the mirror. Yes, that would do, she decided, satisfied with her looks. After receiving Harm's invitation she had at once mailed to Harriet to send her one of her evening dresses, one she hadn't worn in quite a long time. She thought maybe Harm hadn't even seen it on her. It was a very romantic, feminine dress, not quite the style she usually wore. But being a happy college girl had made her feel like putting it on.  
  
Perhaps it was the color that had kept her from wearing it all these years. Dalton had talked her into buying it and the clear pearl-white silk with the thinnest layer of chiffon falling loosely over it somehow always reminded her of a wedding dress. With all her shattered dreams of marriage she had never felt she could put it on after Dalton's death, not even when she had been engaged to Brumby. It just didn't feel right. But today it did, she noted with a slightly accelerating heart rate.  
  
The dress clung to her upper body right down to her waist, failing to be off-the-shoulder by a few inches as some hint of a short sleeve clung to the curve of her shoulder, thus creating a perfect oval that went right around her bust. From her hips the long, wide skirt fell right to the floor, swinging with every step she made while the light chiffon of the topmost layer was allowed to flutter just a little more than the silk that was underneath, sustained by a not too puffy petticoat. No additional decorations were found on the whole dress, no lace, no frills, no embroidery, nothing. Simple, just as Mac liked it. Around her neck she wore a simple tight pearl-white satin ribbon, with a tiny, round pearl brooch attached right in front. Besides that Mac didn't wear any jewelry and her hair was simply tucked behind her ears. A small pearl-white purse, fitting shoes (comfortable ones!) and a pearl-white silk shawl in case the temperature dropped a little completed the outfit.  
  
Mac closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. She'd never been this nervous going out with Harm. Not even after they had returned from Venice, when he'd properly asked her out on a date for the first time. But she somehow had the feeling this weekend would be special. He had sounded as if he wanted it to be.  
  
It hadn't been easy to get away. First, she'd had to get Pablo to stop trying to persuade her to go on a weekend trip to Martha's Vineyard with her. Telling him that she had to see her sick grandmother in Santa Monica had finally made him back away. But she could tell he wasn't amused at all. Not that she really cared, though. Then she'd had to try on the dress without being noticed by Jeannine, which was quite difficult as they had come so close that they always left their room doors open inside the apartment. Finally, she'd had to leave the campus with a traveling bag, dissuade Pablo from driving her to JFK and take a cab instead. The driver had taken her to Times Square where she'd had to find a quiet place to change. She decided on the Marriott's restrooms, that choice leaving her the task, though, to go in in jeans and sweatshirt and leave again in full evening attire. Well, she'd survive the stares. And once outside, she'd see Harm.  
  
Taking her traveling bag she left the restrooms, crossed the lobby high- headed, ignoring other people's glances, and stepped onto the walkway outside, only to see a tall familiar figure standing about a hundred yards away, obviously looking for someone.  
  
Continually shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Harm scanned the area for any signs of his favorite marine. He was beginning to sweat in his black tuxedo. But that was his own fault, because for once in his life Harmon Rabb had been early. Now he stood waiting for Mac, his eyes wandering until they suddenly locked on an unearthly apparition in white that had just emerged from the Marriott Hotel and was walking in Harm's direction. 'Fancy dress' he had written. 'Fairy' was what he got. Unable to move Harm just stared as Mac approached him, with every fiber of her body impersonating the meaning of her name: princess.  
  
It wasn't until she had reached him that he woke from his daydream, letting out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Hey," was all he could choke out.  
  
She smiled in return, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Hey..."  
  
Taking her bag for her, he leaned in and brushed a shy kiss to her cheek. "You're so beautiful, Marine," he said softly.  
  
Her flush deepened. "Thanks." Then, relieved to find a topic that would ease the tension, she looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. "No uniform, Commander?"  
  
He flashed her a quick flyboy-grin. "Nope. This is just you and me tonight, all private. Harmon and Sarah. And my parents later on."  
  
"Your parents?" she asked with a slight feeling of shock. Mac had never yet met Trish and Frank Burnett and she was anxious to make a good first impression.  
  
Harm was chuckling slightly at her startled expression. "Hey, this isn't a tribunal or examination or anything. Mom just keeps trying to talk me into bringing you over since I let slip that we might have gotten involved. And today turned out to be a lucky occasion as they're in New York."  
  
Mac still felt a little uneasy and, to tell the truth, was just a little angry that he hadn't told her beforehand. Thankfully, she was nicely dressed and didn't have to worry about her appearance. 'Okay, I'll let it slip this time, squid,' she thought, determined to let nothing spoil her weekend with her beloved sailor. So with an astonished smile she only asked: "Then why did you tell me to dress up so much?"  
  
His grin showed that he was enjoying himself. "Because Mom and Frank invited us to something very special. Come on, jarhead, let's get your stuff to the hotel and I'll tell you on the way, okay?"  
  
It was impossible to resist his good humor. Mac's half-smile grew into a radiant grin. "Agreed." Rising on her toes, she kissed him tenderly. They shared a warm glance and Mac let Harm take her arm to lead her to a cab.  
  
The driver put Mac's bag in the trunk and opened the back doors for her and Harm to get in. Then he sat behind the wheel and turned, smiling at the young couple. "Where to, ma'am, sir?"  
  
"Uhm... Waldorf Astoria, please," Harm said, feeling a little uneasy.  
  
Mac's head snapped in his direction, her eyes staring at him. "Harm, are you crazy?" she hissed when she had recovered from her initial shock.  
  
Harm shook his head in silent amusement. "Calm down, Mac," he replied in a soothingly low voice. "Frank's some sort of a special guest there by now. He gets special conditions. For his stepson, too." He felt Mac relax as he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.  
  
"Okay," she smiled, obviously a little embarrassed. "But I guess you're still paying a lot for the name, aren't you?" she asked, tilting her head inquisitively to one side.  
  
"You're not supposed to know that," he retorted, grinning, in an 'end-of- conversation' tone.  
  
A smile on her lips, Mac suppressed an exasperated sigh. Sometimes this sailor beside her could be insufferable. But something deep inside her just loved to be courted that way, she had to admit to herself.  
  
For a while they sat in silence, both inwardly laughing about the chaste distance they were keeping between them, while they looked out of the windows into different directions. Harm holding Mac's hand in his lap was the only sign telling they belonged together.  
  
'This is ridiculous!' Mac thought. 'Why am I suddenly so shy?' She felt like a young girl going out on her first date. Allowing herself a look at her partner, she felt that, unlike her first impression, his tuxedo had a similar effect on her as had his dress whites or mess dress. 'I should get used to the concept that it's the man inside who's affecting me,' she acknowledged with a smile.  
  
Looking up to his face, Mac found Harm was watching her with amusement. "What?"  
  
Before answering he gave her a critical survey from head to toe. "Just doing the same you did, jarhead," he said, referring to her non-too-subtle scrutiny.  
  
"Jerk!" she hissed, laughing, leaning to his shoulder and letting him slide his arm behind her back. "So, tell me, Professor, how did you plan to broaden my educational horizons?"  
  
Harm smiled widely. "Have you ever been to the Met?"  
  
"Oh my God..." Mac's voice trailed off. Of course she hadn't. An evening at the Metropolitan Opera had been something of a dream in her youth. And when she'd finally had the means to make it come true she'd never had the time or the right company.  
  
"There's more," Harm enthusiastically continued. "It's not 'just' an evening at the Met but it's a premiere. Frank was invited and he asked me if you and I wanted to join him and Mom."  
  
Mac needed some moments to digest the news. Even though she had been a highly respectable woman for quite a few years now and, as a high-ranking officer, had been to many high society events, this was another dimension. It was a fairy tale. Sarah Mackenzie was going to stay at the Waldorf Astoria with her very own Prince Charming and was invited to a Metropolitan Opera premiere by his well-connected parents. She swallowed hard and Harm could see just a hint of fear shining in her eyes as she looked up to him.  
  
"What is it, Mac?" he asked gently, cupping her face with one hand.  
  
"I..." she swallowed again and then laughed, a little embarrassed about her behavior. Sobering she then said: "I... please, don't laugh, Harm, but I feel I don't belong there, you know, easy life of the rich and all that stuff. I'm a runaway teenager, ex-alcoholic, I have no connections whatsoever..."  
  
"Stop it, Mac," he ordered her softly, cutting her off before she could slip even deeper into her complexes. Putting his free hand to the other side of her face, he made her look straight into his eyes: "It's who you are now that defines where you belong, Mac. You are the bravest woman I've ever met. You went through hell of your own free will, achieving what so many others don't: you fought a victory over your addiction. You made the decision to set your life straight and joined the Corps. You followed that path with every ounce of strength you could possibly muster. You beat them all in law school. You built yourself a great career. It's you who are second in rank after the admiral, not me. It's you who are chief of staff at JAG. You make men turn their heads because you're a stunning woman as well. And deep down you have an affectionate heart that enables you to be the truest of friends and the one woman I'll ever truly love in my life. Now, tell me, who deserves to be graced by society's attention?"  
  
When she remained silent and shifted her head to look down, he turned her face up again with a gentle effort, locking his gaze with hers once again. "Tell me, Mac, who does?"  
  
She swallowed, willing her tears down. "I do," she said in a low voice.  
  
Harm smiled. "Exactly. And it's up to me to thank the Lord on my knees that I have your attention."  
  
She returned a teary smile. "You have far more than my attention, sailor, and you know it. Thanks, Harm," she added very low, "Thanks for showing me who I am. With all those rich guys around at the college I tend to forget it."  
  
"I love you," he simply replied and closed the distance between them, underlining his words with a passionate kiss.  
  
When they arrived at the hotel Mac gathered her courage, straightened to full height and entered the lobby. She still felt out of place but Harm's words had given her the strength she needed to will the feeling away. She was Lt. Col. Sarah Mackenzie, Chief of Staff to the Judge Advocate General, and people would show her the respect she deserved.  
  
They received their keys, secrecy still banishing them to separate rooms, but Frank had obviously seen to it that Harm and Mac's rooms had a connecting door.  
  
They had barely enough time to put away Mac's bag before they had to leave again to go to the opera house. It seemed Frank had spared no expense as a limousine drove up to the entrance when Harm asked for their ride. Opening the limo's door for Mac, Harm helped her get in and then joined her inside the spacious vehicle.  
  
"Aren't we going to wait for your parents?" Mac asked.  
  
"Frank had a business meeting earlier and Mom went with the ladies group to an exhibition. We're to meet them there."  
  
"Uhm... Harm?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What if anyone sees us? That could blow my cover."  
  
Harm frowned. "Yeah. I thought about that, too. But tell me, what are the odds? Who knows you? The students, right? They won't go to a Met premiere without their families. How many of them live in the area? Maybe six or seven families. I'd say it's highly improbable one of them shows up. So, who else knows you? Only the Gonzalezes. I've heard, they're not really opera lovers. Maribel told me that much. If they go they do it for society. And I happen to know Juan and his wife are going to a Rotary dinner tonight. So what are the chances Maribel or Pablo or one of their cousins show up alone? I think we're quite safe. And besides, I'm in civvies and thus less obtrusive."  
  
Mac nodded consent. It was a little risky but not too much. She'd be careful.  
  
"So, now listen, my student," Harm said with a sly smile as he pulled out a program. "Being invited by someone who's in the city's administration does have advantages. You get these for free even before you arrive at the opera house. Well..." he opened the program. "My mom tells me today's artists are some of the finest to be had. I've already seen two of them on stage, actually. By the way, we'll be seeing the premiere of 'Tosca' by Giacomo Puccini. Conductor: James Levine, main characters: Tosca, the opera singer: Angela Gheorghiu; Cavaradossi, the artist: Roberto Alagna; Scarpia, police chief of Rome: Samuel Ramey. Do you know the story?"  
  
"No such thing as music in my youth, Harm," she reminded him gently.  
  
"Okay, listen, I'll try to explain. Cavaradossi and Tosca are engaged. The story is set in Rome in the early nineteenth century. Royal troops have just destroyed the Republic of Rome that had been installed under the influence of Napoleon. Because of this, republicans must hide to escape capital punishment. Cavaradossi is painting a picture in a church when a republican friend asks him for help. The artist hides him in the church. Tosca comes to see her fiancé and he's very secretive. She's very jealous and thinks he's hiding another woman from her. Scarpia shows up. He's cruelly persecuting the republicans. Scarpia wants Tosca for himself so he manages to kindle her jealousy until she subconsciously lets something slip about the hideout. Cavaradossi is arrested for helping a criminal. That's the first act. Follow me, Marine?"  
  
"Yep. Go on."  
  
Harm silently wondered why he didn't get any sharp replies. 'Maybe she's enjoying herself so much she'll allow herself to let go of her Marine mode,' he thought, hoping he was right. It would do her good.  
  
"Okay," he went on, "Second act. Scarpia invites Tosca over to dinner to 'negotiate' Cavaradossi's release. But all he wants is her. Cavaradossi won't tell anything in questioning. Scarpia has him brought up near to where he and Tosca eat so she can hear his screams while he's tortured."  
  
"That son of a bitch!" Mac blurted out, surprising Harm quite a bit.  
  
"Hey, don't take it too hard, it's only a play."  
  
"But I was thinking about how that poor woman must feel! My God, if I imagine hearing you scream in agony while I'm sitting in the adjoining room, having dinner with your enemy..."  
  
Harm could tell Mac was agitated. Somehow he felt flattered by her emotional display. "I guess one would have to be sorry for my enemy after you dealt with him," he retorted dryly. Mac cast him a quick satisfied smile and nodded consent.  
  
"Anyway," Harm continued, "Cavaradossi tells Tosca to be strong and not care about his physical pain. But being a loving woman she can't and finally consents to give herself to Scarpia in return for her fiancé's life." He grinned. "Now, those were women! Nowadays you wouldn't find any woman willing to do such a thing without negotiating alternatives."  
  
"I would," Mac said quietly. Harm's brows went up in astonishment. "For you, I would", Mac repeated.  
  
Harm was touched. "I wouldn't let you," he gently replied.  
  
"Try and stop me," Mac retorted, smiling. Instead of answering, Harm kissed her.  
  
"Thanks, my ninja-girl."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
"Where were we? Ah, yes. Tosca consents, they take away Cavaradossi and Scarpia signs a secret paper that tells the executioners to fake the shooting in order to save his reputation. Tosca is to tell Cavaradossi how to act and then leave the city together with him unnoticed. She takes the valuable document and when Scarpia tries to embrace and kiss her, claiming his prize, sort of, she stabs and kills him. He's yelling for help, dying, and she's horrified at realizing what she's done."  
  
"I wouldn't be," Mac declared, "He deserved it."  
  
"But you're a soldier, Marine. We're supposed to kill our enemies. She's an opera singer. Imagine what this must have cost her."  
  
"I see your point, counselor. Go on."  
  
"Third act: Cavaradossi's last night. Instead of requesting his last meal he begs for a pen and paper as his last grace and writes a letter to his beloved. Big aria. This scene always gives me the creeps, Mac," he admitted. "I know how he must feel. It's like going on a mission, not knowing if you'll survive. Well, he's still worse off, knowing he won't. But still it's very similar, I think. You gotta put all your feelings, all that's been left unsaid, into one single letter in case you don't make it back. I can't count how many times I told you how I felt in my letters when we were flying off the Patrick Henry during the Kosovo crisis."  
  
Mac paled slightly as she imagined Harm writing to her in the knowledge he might never see her again. Instinctively she put her arms around him, holding him tightly for some moments until he relaxed as the dreadful memories faded.  
  
"Go on," she encouraged him, wanting to change the mood.  
  
Harm sat up again and straightened his dinner jacket. "Okay. Time's up and Tosca comes to see him, explaining their plan. He's overwhelmed by the prospect of salvation and reunion with his fiancée. So when the execution is about to begin he and her play a tearful goodbye and lightheartedly await the proceedings. Problem is, Scarpia had never given the order not to shoot him. So when Cavaradossi falls, hit by the bullets, Tosca signals him to stay down and not move until all soldiers are away. Then she rushes to his side - and finds him dead. And just then, when she's in the middle of her despair, soldiers come up to arrest her for the murder of Scarpia. Oh, I forgot to tell you this scene is set on top of the Castel Sant'Angelo, the prison of Rome which is situated on a very steep hill. So, Tosca does the only thing she can. She climbs onto one of the walls and jumps. End of opera."  
  
"Whoa," Mac made, impressed. "That's quite a plot. Promising huge amounts of emotion I'd say."  
  
"You got it," he confirmed, grinning. Just as he put the program in his inside pocket, the limo slowed down and stopped right in front of the well- known façade of the Met.  
  
  
  
Sat, June 6th 0043 ZULU Metropolitan Opera Lincoln Center New York City, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Trish Burnett stood at the first-floor railing, eagerly skimming the area for her son and his partner. After all that Harm had told her about Mac, saying Trish was curious to get to know her was brutal understatement. Trish was all but dying to see the woman she was sure would one day be her daughter-in-law if she ever were to get one. Catching sight of a black and a white figure starting to ascend the stairs, she excitedly grabbed her husband's arm.  
  
"Frank, that's them! Look!"  
  
Frank lovingly put an arm around his wife's shoulders and looked into the direction she had indicated. "Yeah, definitely. Quite a sight, aren't they?"  
  
Trish was bubbling with excited joy at what she saw. "Frank, look, of course you can immediately see the uncanny resemblance to Diane, but Mac's just so much more beautiful from inside. Look how she beams at him, as if she were emanating some kind of an aura! She's a gorgeous girl, Frank. And look at how he smiles back at her! He loves her. I've never seen my son like this before, and, believe me, I've seen him in a lot of moods."  
  
"Hey, honey, calm down. You don't want to scare Mac by being so giddy, do you?" Frank said gently.  
  
Trish laughed, blushing slightly. "Yes, you're right. I'll behave. It's just... Frank, for so many years I've been hoping Harm would finally find someone who'd really make him happy. And somehow I knew it could have been no one else than Mac. When I heard him say they might have gotten closer..."  
  
Frank grinned. "I know. I was there. Your scream nearly made me drop my wine glass."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Forgiven. And now just be yourself, okay?"  
  
"Thanks, Frank." Trish turned and opened her arms to her son who stepped close to her and embraced her warmly.  
  
"Hi Mom!"  
  
"Harm! It's so good to see you! It's been too long, you know..."  
  
"I know, Mom. I'm sorry but I've been very busy of late."  
  
Trish bit back a laugh. "Oh, really?"  
  
"Mom!" he said, laughing, letting go of her. She watched him as he cordially shook Frank's hand and then gently took the hand of the slender young woman next to him. He pulled her a little closer, pride and love shining in his eyes. Trish hoped her tears wouldn't rise too easily but seeing Harm like this was just too much for a mother.  
  
"Mom, Frank, this is Mac," he said simply. "Mac, these are my parents."  
  
To her astonishment Trish felt that the young woman's hand was slightly shaking as she took it. Mac was a little pale as well and her eyes seemed those of a frightened deer although she was smiling. 'My God, the poor girl seems afraid of making a bad impression,' Trish thought, compassion instantly filling her affectionate heart. 'I'm only glad Harm told me a bit about her history. Otherwise I would be at a loss about why she's reacting this way.'  
  
"Good evening, Mrs. Burnett," Mac said shyly, "I'm pleased to meet you."  
  
"Hello Mac," Trish said warmly, taking Mac's hand into both of her own and giving her a heartfelt smile. "I'm so happy we finally get to know you. Harm's been talking about you constantly these past seven years and I think it's a scandal we've never met before! And that's Trish to you, not Mrs. Burnett. You don't mind that, do you?"  
  
"No, ma'am... uh... Trish", Mac stammered, blushing, angry with herself for being this clumsy but relieved at Trish's easy manner.  
  
'It's very hard to believe this shy little girl could be the no-nonsense Marine Harm has told us about,' Trish thought in amusement. 'But look at him - he's an aviator hero, but fails to tell a woman who loves him that he loves her back. With these attitudes I don't wonder anymore why it took them so long to figure it out.' She put her hand on Mac's shoulder. "Sarah... you don't mind my calling you Sarah, do you? I love that name."  
  
Mac was surprised but on second thought she liked the idea of letting Harm's mother be one of the select few that called her by her given name. Not even Harm did, regularly. "No, I'd like that, Trish," she smiled. Harm was smiling broadly, seeing his mother obviously liked his Marine.  
  
"Sarah," Trish repeated, making a gesture to her husband, "This is my husband Frank."  
  
"Nice to meet you," Mac greeted, shaking hands with him, already feeling far less uneasy than she had before.  
  
"Same goes here," Frank replied with a smile and then turned to his stepson, grinning. "You definitely perfected your taste with women, son. Congratulations."  
  
Seeing Mac blush and fidget uncomfortably at the straightforward praise, Harm put a soothing arm around her shoulders and grinned back at Frank. "I think I had an excellent taste with women from the start. I just didn't really know it."  
  
That made all of them laugh, any remainders of previous tension fading away.  
  
'They like me,' Mac thought, relieved, 'They really like me. Thank you, God!'  
  
Just then the bell announced the beginning of the performance.  
  
Harm loved watching just how much Mac enjoyed the evening. The performance was smashing in every respect, the orchestra was gorgeous and the three main characters not only sang divinely but their acting was fit for the Academy Awards. Frank had gotten top-class seats in the third row, and during the interval they just remained seated, having so much to talk about.  
  
While Mac was animatedly conversing with Frank, Trish leaned over to her son who was watching his partner with a smile. "Happy?" she asked in a low voice, winking at him knowingly.  
  
"You have no idea," Harm answered softly.  
  
"I'll ask again: she's quite the girl, isn't she?"  
  
Harm chuckled, remembering his reaction back then. Today he didn't mind that Trish brought up the subject. "She is," he admitted. "And I'm determined to stick to her."  
  
"Harm, I'm so glad. I'd already given up hope you'd say that about a woman one day," Trish said, her voice not entirely even. "Take good care of her, my dear. She's special."  
  
"I know," Harm replied with a smile.  
  
Mac was overwhelmed. The music left her breathless and the story and its interpretation were so loaded with emotion that she couldn't take her eyes off the stage. She squeezed Harm's hand, glad he was so close by. When Alagna was singing Cavaradossi's last aria, writing his farewells to his fiancée, Mac felt tears trickle down her cheeks. She let them flow, she didn't care.  
  
Remembering their conversation back in the limousine, she imagined Harm sitting there, writing to her as he had told her he'd done so many times. Maybe he had even written a letter on the evening of her wedding rehearsal dinner. True, those had been training flights, but knowing that bad weather had been coming in...  
  
Mac had always tried to avoid thinking of that fateful night. But right now she couldn't fight the memories: how she had been paralyzed at hearing the dreadful news that Harm was lost at sea. Gnawing fear had grown inside her with every minute, as they couldn't locate him. She remembered vividly the flush of hope that ran through her soul when they found Skates - only to turn into painful disappointment when Harm wasn't found anywhere near his RIO. She also remembered the wave of despair that had washed over her when the rescue teams had been ordered back on board the carrier. The feeling of being utterly helpless, knowing the man she loved was at the very moment dying out at sea, had nearly driven her out of her senses.  
  
Then a faint ray of hope had broken through the darkness when Chloe had suggested Mac should try to locate him with her thoughts just like she had done when Chloe had been lost in the woods. Mac would never forget how her heart had skipped several beats at the sudden revelation where he was floating. And then, finally, overwhelming relief had nearly made her faint, at the news that he'd been found alive thanks to the coordinates she'd supplied - how she'd done it she still couldn't explain. What if it had gone wrong? What if she hadn't been able to locate him? What if, a few days later, someone had handed her an envelope with his handwriting that held a letter in which Harm told her he loved her and she found out too late?  
  
Such thoughts were still haunting Mac, even after such a long time. She felt more tears well up inside her and decided to concentrate on the music again. Tosca and Cavaradossi were now singing their farewells, convinced they'd be united in an hour's time, not knowing the dreadful fate that awaited them.  
  
Then, after a breathtaking finale, the curtain fell and a hurricane of applause broke loose. Harm took his handkerchief out of his pocket, put his left index finger under Mac's chin and gently dried her tears, smiling. She was beautiful even when she'd been crying.  
  
The applause lasted a full twenty minutes. When they could finally let rest their red, sore hands, Mac, Harm and his parents left the auditorium and went to await their limousine outside the building.  
  
"Thank you, all of you, for a wonderful evening," Mac said with a huge sigh. "This really was a hallmark event in my life."  
  
Trish beamed at her. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Sarah."  
  
Encircling her in his arms, Harm brushed a gentle kiss to Mac's lips. "Thank you for accompanying us," he smiled. Reveling in the feeling of being a happy family, none of the four was aware of a pair of large dark eyes staring at them from a short distance.  
  
Maribel Gonzalez had been less than thrilled at the prospect of having to accompany her aunt to just another boring night at the Met. But little had she known the evening would turn out to be so humiliating. She had seen them only on exiting the building and she had stopped short in her tracks as she'd recognized the tall dark-haired man in the tuxedo. And she'd felt her knees fail her when the gorgeous woman he held in his arms had for a second turned in her direction, long enough to be recognized as no other than Cadet Patricia O'Hara, the girl she had thought to be her brother's new girlfriend.  
  
Suddenly Maribel was convinced there was no Cadet O'Hara at all. Whoever Harm's girlfriend was - she was a grown-up woman, and Maribel had to recognize that she'd never even have the hint of a chance with Harm as long as the other woman was near. It was clear that Harm worshipped her. If Maribel guessed correctly her competitor even knew his parents quite well. Maribel was fuming. No, she wasn't heartbroken, but she was deadly mad at the man who'd fooled her.  
  
Maribel knew Harm was a JAG lawyer. She hadn't thought he could be on an investigation, but obviously he was trying to spy on her family's business, and the woman probably was his partner, planted inside the college to collect further evidence. 'Okay, Harmon Rabb, Jr.,' she thought grimly. 'If you can fool us, we can do the same with you. In no time we'll have the true identity of your pretty little girlfriend, and I swear to you, when we do hell will break loose!'  
  
  
  
Sat, June 6th 0417 ZULU Waldorf Astoria Hotel New York City, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Having bid goodnight to Harm's parents, Harm and Mac exited the elevator and silently, hand in hand, walked to Harm's door and entered his room. When he had closed the door behind them and switched on only a small side- light, the tension between them became palpable. They stood face to face, watching each other earnestly, lost in thoughts and lost in each other's eyes, neither of them speaking a word. Harm's heart was beating wildly when he finally closed the distance and with trembling fingertips traced the outlines of Mac's face. He knew exactly what he wanted to do but didn't dare to start.  
  
Mac's gaze was intense, but not really focused on him. Her eyes seemed to trespass the border of his face and look right into his mind. What she saw thrilled and scared her at the same time. With an equally trembling hand she reached for his and made it rest on her cheek.  
  
Harm swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, unable to endure the eye contact. But then he forced himself to again look at her and, as if in slow motion, leaned in and let his lips brush hers. Mac's response was immediate. After a moment of timid tasting their kiss grew in passion and Harm put one arm around her waist and buried his free hand in her hair. Mac let herself be drawn close and wrapped her arms around his neck.  
  
She didn't argue when his hand found the zipper of her dress and slowly lowered it. Instead she brushed his dinner jacket off his shoulders, then removed his bow-tie and waistcoat and began to unbutton his shirt, thus revealing his well-shaped body she'd been dreaming of constantly since Venice and occasionally before.  
  
Seeing her dress drop to the floor, Harm couldn't believe this was really happening. Breaking the kiss he pulled Mac close and let her bury her face on his bare chest. He took long and deep breaths, taking in the scent of her shampoo and perfume, closing his eyes and imagining what he might see upon opening them again. He felt himself tremble with an anticipation he tried not to let show too openly. After endless moments he felt her stir in his arms.  
  
"Harm," she whispered, "I don't know if..." Her voice was strained.  
  
A wave of disappointment washed over him. "It's all right," he said soothingly as he stroked the back of her head and then let go of her. She stepped out of her dress and shoes and picked them up, heading for the connecting door between their rooms. He followed her, opening the door for her with a smile that was just a little sad. But he wanted her to know he wasn't upset.  
  
She turned in the doorway, her white satin underwear clearly visible on her olive-tanned skin against the dark background of her room. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, "I really don't know why..."  
  
He gently cut her off. "There's nothing to apologize for, Sarah. I told you we'd do this when time was right. For both of us."  
  
"Thank you, Harm. I love you."  
  
"I love you, too, Sarah. Sleep tight."  
  
"You, too, sailor."  
  
With that she closed the door, leaning against it and fighting her tears. This was what she'd wanted for so long. Why'd she have to be such a coward?  
  
  
  
Sat, June 6th 0521 ZULU Waldorf Astoria Hotel New York City, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Harm, in his boxers, was lying on his back on top of his king size double bed, unable to sleep. The growing intimacy between him and Mac was playing and re-playing in his mind. The image had chased away every last remainder of inward calmness he might have had earlier. God, he wanted her! Badly. But at the same time he'd never be able to do anything that she didn't fully consent to. How could he possibly? He worshipped her, so she had to be the one who set the level of intimacy.  
  
He froze when he suddenly heard the connecting door open. Cautiously he sat up and saw a figure approaching in the darkness. Getting up, he met her halfway in the middle of his room.  
  
"Mac, what's up?" he said worriedly as he let his hands rest on her upper arms, noticing she was in her terry-cloth robe, trembling slightly.  
  
"Nothing really..." she replied in a very low voice.  
  
"Can't sleep, my favorite Marine?" he asked softly, trying to read her expression in the darkness.  
  
"Yeah..." she whispered, swallowing. "Harm," she started, closing the distance and letting herself be embraced by her rather surprised partner, "I... I want to feel you close to me." Her voice was barely audible. Harm felt her shake, at the same time noticing how his heart rate doubled in the fraction of a second.  
  
"You sure?" he whispered. "You don't have to do this, Mac, if you don't want to."  
  
Even in the darkness he could feel her firm glance. "I want this, Harm. If you do."  
  
"I do." He inhaled sharply as she stepped back a little, opened the belt of her robe and let it slide to the floor, revealing her unblemished body. Harm had always tried to imagine what she might look like nude but his imagination hadn't come close to what he saw. Her round but slender form, her silky skin that in the moonlight shimmered just a little bit, the perfect proportion of her limbs...  
  
When she saw him this paralyzed, she again closed the distance, nearly driving him crazy in their closeness. Slowly Harm seemed to wake from his state. He gently lifted her to his arms and carried her over to the bed where he lowered her on her back. Quickly removing his boxers, he joined her, at first lying next to her on his back as well, taking her hand.  
  
To his astonishment he heard Mac chuckle. "I thought I was the one who's scared."  
  
She felt rather than heard him laugh. "I feel like a school boy who doesn't know what to do, Mac." Somehow his confession eased the tension.  
  
"What? The great Harmon Rabb is at a loss with a woman? Impossible," she stated in an amused half-whisper. "Come on, flyboy, start by kissing me."  
  
"Aye, ma'am," he murmured, rolling on top of her and claiming her lips with his, gently first, but soon passion got the better of both of them. Feeling the strong urge to touch her everywhere at the same time, Harm willed himself to take it slow and let his hands roam over her gorgeous body, slowly and gently caressing every inch of her skin. Mac's hands did the same with his back, shoulders, neck and head. They broke their kiss only for the briefest moment in order to breathe.  
  
Harm soon felt he couldn't stand the tension very much longer. He had always believed Mac to be a passionate woman, but the degree of emotion she let herself be carried away with amazed him.  
  
"Harm... make love to me. Please," Mac begged in a soft whisper, her breath grazing his earlobe.  
  
With an almost inhuman effort, Harm once again stopped his actions and looked her straight in the eyes. "Are you really sure about this, Sarah?"  
  
"Yes, I am," came the soft but firm reply that carried audible traces of her smile. "You?"  
  
"I've never been so sure about anything in my life before," he whispered, swallowing heavily at the prospect of what would follow.  
  
"I love you, Harmon Rabb, Jr.," he heard her whisper before she kissed him again. This was the final signal Harm needed to let go of his lifeline.  
  
"I love you, too, Sarah Mackenzie."  
  
Both of them where holding their breath as they finally, after so many years of silent longing, very slowly crossed the last physical border that had separated them from being one flesh and one body.  
  
"Oh God, Mac," Harm choked out under his breath, "Tell me I'm not imagining things. Please!"  
  
He could hear her smile when her reply came in a barely audible whisper. "We're both in the middle of a dream, but this surely isn't our imagination." With this said, they joined in a lovemaking so deeply sensitive and emotional neither of them had ever experienced in their lives.  
  
  
  
Same time Unknown location  
  
  
  
The computer screen flickered in the dark, lighting the deserted office in a pale blue. The figure in front of it didn't move, seeming to stare blankly through the words and pictures on the monitor. Only fingers were moving quickly on the keyboard, the clicking being the only sound in the room, accompanied by the low hum of the computer's ventilation.  
  
With an expert's knowledge, the hacker maneuvered his way through the jungle of government organization structures, being stopped a couple of times by rather pitiful jokes authorities called security precautions. Building one virtual bridge after another, the man slowly approached his target, still not giving any outward sign of even noticing, let alone feeling satisfaction, as he pushed the 'enter' key one last time.  
  
The screen turned all black to reveal a tiny hourglass. Moments later a picture slowly started to appear before the person's eyes, accompanied by some data related to it. It was a passport photo of a woman. Chin-length dark hair, big brown eyes. She was wearing a Marine lieutenant colonel's uniform.  
  
The shadow in front of the computer moved, extended one arm and picked up the receiver of a telephone, dialing a number.  
  
"Jefe, soy Bernardo." [Boss it's me, Bernardo.] The voice was hoarse. He paused, listening. "Sí, tengo los datos que usted me preguntó. Sí, la identidad de ella." [Yes, I have the data you asked me for. Yes, her identity.]  
  
Another brief interval while the computer's ventilation hummed on.  
  
"Es como supusimos: Es su partner...sí, avogada. Teniente Coronello Sarah Mackenzie, sí, del JAG." [It's as we thought: She's his partner...yes, a lawyer. Lt. Col. Sarah Mackenzie, yes, from the JAG.]  
  
Another interval in which he listened intently to the person on the other end of the line.  
  
"Sí, supongo que está protegiendo a la hija, pero seguramente ella y el comandante están recogiendo informacíones sobre la organisación...sí, entiendo. Nos vemos mañana. Muy bien, jefe. Adiós." [Yes, I suppose she's protecting the girl, but surely she and the commander are collecting information on the organization...yes, I understand. See you tomorrow. Very well, boss. Goodbye.]  
  
The hacker inserted a floppy disc, copied the file, switched off the computer and quietly disappeared into the darkness.  
  
  
  
Sat, June 6th 1312 ZULU Waldorf Astoria Hotel New York City, N.Y.  
  
  
  
A brilliant ray of the morning sun passed in between two slats of the blinds outside the window. Mac woke from the warmth she felt on her nose, blinking and closing her eyes rapidly at the light that shone in her direction. Her sense of orientation didn't fully work yet, and for the briefest moment set her wondering what she was doing in another bed than her own, naked. But just then a slight rustling of sheets to her right reminded her where she was and, more important, with whom.  
  
Mac drew a deep, content breath, smiling and snuggling back into her pillow. Turning her head a little she watched her partner, friend and lover sleeping peacefully, the hint of a smile gracing his handsome face. She longed to touch him, caress him, kiss him, but she refrained from all such notions, wanting him to get as much rest as he could. She'd watch over him.  
  
Letting her thoughts wander, she wasn't surprised they immediately took her back to what had happened some hours ago. 'Now I know what taking one's breath away means,' she thought, smiling, again feeling shivers on her spine as she had at his touch. 'How does he do that?' she wondered, thinking of her previous relationships. The comparison to Chris forbid itself. She had been drunk most of the time. Farrow? The guilt and the fear of being charged with fraternization had prevented her from really letting go. Dalton. Well, they'd had their moments but the memory felt shallow. And Mic... Maybe with him she'd come closest to love until now. He was a good man and he had adored her. But in all those years since she'd first known a certain aviator it had been Harm, and only Harm, who'd been able to make adrenaline flow in her veins without even touching her, to make her feel at home in the few moments they'd come close and to prevent her heart from ever truly opening itself to any other man, despite the fact that until Venice she'd always felt they couldn't have a future together.  
  
A future together. Wow. Butterflies were starting to flutter in her stomach as she recalled the conversation they'd had in her office after Webb had told them of their assignment. 'As long as it takes, Harm,' she repeated in her mind, 'I'll always be there for you.'  
  
The sunray had wandered on and was causing Harm to subconsciously wrinkle his nose. He had such a funny expression on his face that Mac couldn't help but giggle. He stirred, turned his head in her direction sleepily and blinked. For a second she noticed pure astonishment in his eyes upon seeing her, but then his memory clicked in and the warmest of all smiles spread over his features.  
  
"Hey, my favorite Marine," he said very softly, "How's the situation?"  
  
"Pretty agreeable, Commander," she replied with a smile.  
  
"Definitely," he grinned, lifting the blanket a little to invite her to join him. Mac turned to lie on her other side and spooned up against his warm body. He encircled her in his arms and kissed her on the back of her neck, causing her to feel new shivers.  
  
"That was quite a night, wasn't it?" She could hear him smile against her back.  
  
Blushing slightly she replied: "Tell me about it, flyboy. Excuse me if I'm being naive, but where on earth did you learn that? Don't tell the Marine Corps, but you had me eating from your hands, squid."  
  
She felt his laughter against her back. "Wow. Now that's a flattering confession, Colonel. I'll write it down and make you sign it, so I can hold it up whenever you get your little green Marine nose up too high."  
  
Shifting in his arms so that she faced him, she playfully slapped him, laughing.  
  
"Ouch," he made, not very convincingly. His grin was contradicting his statement.  
  
"And how would you 'make' me sign the confession, counselor?" she asked mischievously.  
  
Mirroring her mischief, he pulled her close and started trailing little kisses from her cheek along her jaw down to her neck. "With this...and this...and this..." he murmured between the kisses, making her giggle.  
  
"Okay, I see your point."  
  
"Do you?" he grinned, pinning her underneath himself and kissing her tenderly. Then his face suddenly sobered, making Mac look at him worriedly.  
  
"What's up, sailor?"  
  
His eyes conveyed a bad conscience when he locked his glance with hers. "We didn't use any protection, Sarah."  
  
She gave a sigh of relief. "Oh, that's what's bothering you? You had me worried for a minute. Harm, that's absolutely no problem. Okay, normally it sure would have been, but I know I can trust you 'cause when we donated blood some months ago we were all tested for infections. And you haven't been with another woman since then, have you?" Her glance was sincere.  
  
"No, I haven't. But what about..."  
  
"I'm on the pill, Harm," she gently cut him off. At his astonished glance she smiled. "No, I haven't been with anyone but the hormonal regulation makes me feel better. That's why I never quit taking it after..." she let her voice trail off, not wanting to mention Mic when she was sharing Harm's bed.  
  
Harm's expression relaxed. "You know, normally I'm not this thoughtless, but with you I lost control."  
  
She took up his previous remark. "Now that's a flattering confession coming from a pilot. Would you please write it down and sign it for me, Commander?"  
  
His face showed something between a frown and a smile. "Hit and wounded, Colonel. Truce?"  
  
"Truce." She kissed him long and passionately.  
  
When they parted for air, Harm looked at her in amusement. "Why, Mac, I could get used to that. What was that for?"  
  
"Just a starter," she whispered seductively. "Tell me, we're not supposed to meet your parents today, are we?"  
  
"No," he answered, a grin slowly spreading over his face, understanding where she was headed. "You sure you're not hungry yet, Marine?" he teased.  
  
"Oh, I'm definitely hungry," she purred, snuggling even closer to him.  
  
"Well, then I guess it's my task to feed you," he murmured before kissing her afresh.  
  
  
  
Sat, June 6th 2108 ZULU Unknown Location  
  
  
  
Three men were sitting around the small table in the farthest-off corner of the dirty little bar. One was smoking a thick cigar, wearing a far-away look, seeming to meditate on his thoughts. The second was chain smoking cigarettes and nervously shifting on his chair. The third sat by calmly and watched. Finally the man with the cigar looked up to the others' faces.  
  
"Algunas proposiciones para arreglar esta situación?" [Any propositions to handle this situation?]  
  
The cigarette-man took a deep breath. "Tenemos que suprimir a ella. Es demasiado peligrosa para nosotros, estando en el colegio." [We've got to do away with her. She's too dangerous for us, staying at the college.]  
  
The cigar-smoker nodded, looking at the third man. "Gomez?"  
  
The quiet man didn't shift upon answering. Seeming like frozen, he said: "No creo que sea una buena idea, jefe. Segundo las informaciones que recibí los dos son amigos muy vecinos. Corre la voz que Rabb quiere a ella. Si suprimos a Mackenzie el comandante nunca nos deja en paz. Será mejor escamotear a él. Y si no nos da ninguna ocasión podemos siempre hacerle entender que el coronello va a sufrir muchísimo si no acaba de investigar. Y quando le tenemos así dependiente de nosotros, encontraremos una posibilidad para terminar a todos los dos."  
  
[I don't think that's a good idea, boss. According to the information I got, the two of them are very close friends. There are rumors that Rabb loves her. If we do away with Mackenzie the commander will never leave us in peace. It'll be better to make 'him' disappear. And if he doesn't give us an opportunity we can always make him understand that the colonel will suffer very much if he won't drop the investigation. And once we've got him depending on us, we'll find a way to finish them both.]  
  
Thin, evil smiles slowly appeared on the faces of the other two men. The one with the cigar raised his glass of wine. "Comandante Rabb, Coronello Mackenzie, que sus vidas sean benditas y felizes." [Cmdr. Rabb, Col. Mackenzie, may your lives be blessed and happy.]  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback is really appreciated!) 


	4. Chapter four

'Dissonance' - Chapter Four Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Chapter One  
  
  
  
Wed, June 10th 2253 ZULU Nick's World Wide Wafers Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Mac was smiling to herself, shaking her head. She was definitely losing her wits if by now even opening an email could cause sudden heat to flow through her body. But since the incredible weekend every allusion, word or image whatsoever that could possibly remind her of Harm in some way, produced a similar effect. 'God, don't let me run on constant high adrenaline for the rest of my life,' she pleaded, chuckling to herself. 'I'd be a terrible mother, no such thing as patience.' She moved her mouse to the 'open' button and resolutely clicked.  
  
To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com) Subject: What have you done to me?????  
  
My dearest Marine,  
  
How could you be so cruel and leave me alone in my current state of mind? I've hardly been able to get anything done in the last few days. My sense happily left me. Guess it didn't like being squashed between the myriads of thoughts that are spinning in my brain, every single one of them about you.  
  
This is so mean of you, jarhead, to deprive me of what makes me fit for my job. I'm stuttering in the easiest of situations, just because there might be something I accidentally see or hear that reminds me of you. I catch myself daydreaming all the time, or worse - I'm caught daydreaming by someone else. And at night... Mac, it's worse than ever. Before last Friday I had finally gotten accustomed to get a little sleep without you by my side. But now it's hopeless.  
  
But I'll stop complaining because when I'm lying awake you're with me, Sarah. The memories are so vivid I can actually feel you in my arms. That helps a great deal.  
  
Last weekend was incredibly beautiful, Mac. Thank you for being with me. I don't think there's any man in the world feeling what I do right now. Okay, I'm sure there are many who'd claim the same thing for themselves, but I'm convinced I'm still better off. Just the idea of being loved by you the way you showed me makes my world spin. Once again: what did I do to deserve you? It's beyond my capacity of understanding. I love you so much I don't know how I can make you see the full extent of my feelings. But I swear I'm gonna show you once we get out of here!  
  
Maribel's been a little distant these last days. I think she's mad at me for not having spent the weekend with her. Well, as much as I'll hate it, I'm going to make it up a little to her. But don't be alarmed - nothing serious is going to happen. The very thought makes me want to throw up. Anyway, Maribel's got no reason to be angry. She told me she went up to the Adirondacks, hiking, with a friend. I guess she had her share of fun while we did... See? That's what I mean. One sentence, one association, and I'm carried away with my imagination.  
  
Have a little pity with a poor, mentally disturbed sailor who in his current state wouldn't dare to fly any planes (Imagine me saying that, Mac!), but who on the other hand does a great job expressing his feelings (Don't I? Please, tell me I've at least improved on that ground, otherwise I might think I lost it completely!),  
  
I love you,  
  
Harm  
  
With a huge grin on her face, Mac clicked on the 'reply' button. 'I'm just glad to hear I'm not the only one,' she thought, relieved. Just as she wanted to start writing, she felt a hand on her shoulder and gave a start. She quickly moved another Internet window on top of her mail program and turned around to find Jeannine smiling at her.  
  
"God, Janni, you scared me to death," Mac tried her escape, "Lesson finished?"  
  
Jeannine grinned. "Closed your dirty page, did you?"  
  
Mac felt herself blush. "Er... no. Okay, I'll tell you, but keep it a secret. It's a rather silly game page I got addicted to. It's German, www.moorhuhn.de, but you don't need the language to play. You just shoot these silly-looking grouses. I'll show you, if you like."  
  
"I'd like to," Jeannine answered, "But let's do it another time, okay? We don't have much time left until we have to get back, and, uhm..." She looked at Mac rather embarrassedly. "Pat, do you have a tampon you could give me?"  
  
Mac smiled, her previous tension lessening as Jeannine seemed to buy her story. "Sure. Take my purse, it's in the little compartment with the zipper. Meanwhile I'm gonna finish an email I was writing."  
  
"Already on my way back," Jeannine said, taking off for the restrooms. Mac instantly went back to writing.  
  
To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com) Subject: Contagious!!  
  
Hi, my flyboy lover!  
  
I don't have much time, 'cause the café's cramped and I had to wait to get to a terminal. Jeannine's lesson is already over. I just wanted to tell you two things: first, Pablo's not as unforgiving as I thought. Mad as he was at me when I told him I had to go home for the weekend, he's now as nice as ever. We're making rapid progress, I fear, not only with my Spanish. I'll have to think of something to keep him at a little distance without causing suspicions. He's taking the concept of a 'latin lover' very seriously. But don't be afraid: you said, thinking of Maribel made you want to vomit? Well, I almost knocked out Pablo instead.  
  
Pablo yesterday came to wake me up in the morning, sneaking into my room, can you guess??? He admitted he stole my spare key from me during Monday's Spanish lesson. Good job, thinking he got to do with a U.S. Marine. Don't let the Corps hear that, okay? Anyway, when he was creeping to my bedside I woke in shock, jumped to my feet and introduced him to my right hook. After that I guess I made it quite clear to him that I wasn't too amused about his stunt. I just had to hold myself back from bringing out the colonel while yelling.  
  
I could tell he was impressed, only stammering he'd thought it might be a welcome surprise waking up next to the man of my dreams... He's got a big black eye now that he's trying to cover with some make-up I gave him. But he hasn't got an aviator who knows how to paint things! (Snicker...)  
  
Second thing: yes, it would damn right be a welcome surprise waking up next to the man of my dreams. Harm, I miss you so much it hurts. I'm out of my senses at least as much as you are, I can tell you that for sure.  
  
Last weekend was... I can't tell just what it was. The only thing I know is that I'll remember every single second of it as long as I live.  
  
Gotta go, love you!  
  
Mac  
  
  
  
Same time Ladies' restrooms Nick's World Wide Wafers Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Jeannine opened Mac's purse, glad her friend was able to supply her with what she needed. Being in summer whites made you repent even more if you forgot to count the hours during your 'female' days. Searching for the little zipper bag, Jeannine twisted and turned her friend's purse, frowning. Then she'd finally located it. The zipper didn't move.  
  
'What the...' Jeannine's thoughts didn't get any further than that. While making an effort to open the little bag, Jeannine's fingers slipped off the zipper. The sudden movement gave the purse a rather strong momentum and sent it flying against the wall and falling down with a 'thud'.  
  
"Sh...ame!" Jeannine exclaimed, quickly kneeling down to gather all of her friend's belongings that lay spread on the floor. Seeing her friend's wallet had opened, Jeannine picked it up to close it again to make sure nothing could fall out.  
  
Just then, something sailed to the floor. Jeannine grabbed it... and stared. It was a black-and-white portrait photo of none other than Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., and on the back was written something. Normally Jeannine respected the privacy of others but this particular case was just too much for her curiosity. She turned the picture around and read:  
  
'To my Sarah, my favorite Marine, my life, my love. Always, Harm.'  
  
Jeannine stared at the words, her hands beginning to tremble. Something wasn't right. Something about Pat, the girl she'd come to trust completely in her desperate situation, wasn't right. Who was Sarah? Fear of being misled and left alone gnawing at her nerves, Jeannine took up the wallet again and watched it more closely. The picture had obviously fallen out of a hidden side-compartment that was normally closed by a button. Upon impact, the button had opened.  
  
With trembling fingers Jeannine reached inside and pulled out a small ID that proved her fears to be true: Cadet Patricia O'Hara, the friend of her utmost trust, didn't even exist. She was holding in her hands the personal belongings of one Sarah Catherine Mackenzie, born back in 1967, JAG lawyer and Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Marine Corps. And not only her friend, someone else had deceived her, too, by planting a spy right in her apartment: Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., the one person she'd risked her life to meet. Hot tears stinging in her eyes, Jeannine leaned back against the bathroom wall, slowly sliding down into a crouched sitting position, desperately searching to control her feelings.  
  
Mac was beginning to wonder what was taking Jeannine so long. Finally, she got up and went over to the ladies' restrooms to look for her friend. She found the girl sitting on the floor, firmly clutching the purse, traces of tears glistening on her cheeks. Worried, Mac started to kneel down when she saw the look in Jeannine's eyes: hostile, cold, hurt. Luckily, no one else seemed to be in the room.  
  
"Janni, what..."  
  
"That's Cadet Stiller to you, ma'am!" Jeannine spat.  
  
Mac felt hot fury well up inside herself. "Did you snoop through my wallet, Cadet?" she said icily, her hands clenched to fists, trying to stay calm.  
  
"It happened to fall out, ma'am." Jeannine stressed the 'ma'am' in bitter mockery.  
  
"You had no right to invade my privacy!" Mac raised her voice, stressing every syllable. Her stare would even have intimidated Lt. Singer, but Jeannine was too furious to notice it.  
  
"You damn sure invaded mine!!" she yelled, starting to sob. Seeing Jeannine cry somehow brought Mac to her senses. She knelt down and put a hand on the girl's shoulder.  
  
"I'm here to protect you, not to use you as a cover for my investigation."  
  
Jeannine violently shook Mac's hand off and glared at her, tears still flowing. "That's not the point, ma'am! You sneaked into my life! You lured me into trusting you and betrayed my trust by pretending to be someone who doesn't even exist! Does the word friendship mean anything to you? Did you ever hear it's got something to do with mutual trust and bonding? Did you know being let down by someone you trust can hurt big time? You offered to sustain me in this hell I'm going through and I accepted because I just lost the closest friend I ever had! And now I find all was just set up to get you inside the college for an investigation that could advance your career. Where does that leave me? Well, I guess that doesn't matter, ma'am, because you're quite above caring for some insignificant girl like me!"  
  
Gritting her teeth, Mac drew herself up to full height. Her face was white with rage and her hands were trembling. "Get to your feet, Cadet," she hissed, deadly serious, her glare sending daggers at the raging girl who slowly got up and reluctantly came to attention.  
  
"Right now I'm feeling very much inclined to tell Captain Wells to expel you for insubordination and disrespecting an officer." Mac's voice was trembling with the fury she tried to hold in check. "But I won't because it wouldn't be helpful with the case. Actually, we'll have to play being friends a little longer, Cadet Stiller, if you like it or not. And this is the only reason why I'm going to tell you something I'd never tell anyone who insulted and hurt me the way you just did."  
  
Mac paused a moment, trying to calm down. Jeannine watched her in silence, noticing the emotional struggle the other was fighting. Mac's voice was low and strained when she finally spoke. "I know damn well what it means to be let down, Cadet! I've been through that situation more often than you'd like to know. I know how the feeling of being hurt and betrayed can eat you up from inside. And it eventually led me to the point where I thought friends didn't even exist."  
  
Another flash of fury lit up Mac's eyes. "And don't you dare tell me I didn't know the concept of real friendship, Cadet. Some years back I got to know someone who trusted me without even knowing who I was, although at one point I even pointed a gun at him and lied to him. He saved my life more than once, putting his own on the line. He showed me what real loyalty and friendship are like and I've been trying to be just the same anchor and source of strength for him as he is for me. We went through bitter times but our friendship survived. Because we knew what it means to us. I'm sure you never even came near yet to experiencing what friendship can be, Cadet. But I have. So, once again: don't you dare accusing me of not honoring the concept!"  
  
Mac's voice had risen to full volume on the last sentence, causing Jeannine to wince. The girl looked at the tall woman's face that showed anger, hurt, defense, passion and... love? Jeannine's fury slowly began to fade away as she understood that Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie had an affectionate heart, very much like Pat O'Hara, the girl she'd come to like so much during the last few weeks.  
  
Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Mac took several deep breaths to calm down. When she opened her eyes again, she found Jeannine looking at her, her gaze not friendly but not cold either.  
  
"You were talking about Commander Rabb, ma'am, weren't you?" Jeannine asked quietly.  
  
"I..."  
  
Just then, a woman entered the restrooms. Mac and Jeannine busied themselves washing their hands.  
  
"Let's continue this someplace else, Cadet," Mac muttered under her breath.  
  
"Aye, ma'am."  
  
They exited the café and set off in the direction of the beach, not caring that they would be late for dinner. After a rather long period of silence, Mac spoke up.  
  
"You were right, Cadet. I was talking about Commander Rabb."  
  
"I... I saw the photo, ma'am," Jeannine admitted uneasily.  
  
"I guessed as much," came Mac's guarded reply.  
  
"How long have you known him, ma'am?"  
  
"Seven years."  
  
"Are you married? Excuse me if I'm impertinent, ma'am, but I think I have a right to know whom I told so many details about my own life."  
  
Mac couldn't help smiling a little at Jeannine's last remark. It held a striking logic. They were supposed to be friends. So why not tell her? "If we were married we couldn't work together, Cadet."  
  
"But isn't it just the same working with your husband or with your boyfriend?"  
  
"Technically, yes. At least for the military."  
  
"So how come you..."  
  
"Nobody knows," Mac cut in quietly.  
  
At the admission, Jeannine lost her guard and openly stared at the officer. "You've been going against regs for years and succeeded to let it go unnoticed?"  
  
Mac's smile was just a little sad. 'I wish we had,' she silently said to herself. 'We've lost so much time.' "Three months, Cadet," was all she replied aloud. The answer made Jeannine's eyes get even rounder.  
  
"I'm sorry I'm dwelling on the subject, ma'am, but you mean you've been together for so long and never got involved until recently? That's an incredible achievement."  
  
Mac's chuckle carried a trace of bitterness. "It'd be more appropriate to call it cowardice, beating around the bush, misunderstanding, backing away, whatever you like. On both sides," she added.  
  
"Oh..."  
  
They walked on in silence, both contemplating the situation. They knew they had to get to at least some kind of a working relationship. Again it was Mac who made the first move. Like when she'd first presented herself to her new roommate, she thought straightforwardness might work best. She stopped her pace, causing Jeannine to stop as well and look at her expectantly.  
  
"Let me make a proposition. It's up to you to accept, I'll be okay with any decision you make, although I hope you'll consent. It's true that I was sent to Dwayne Myers in order to be your undercover bodyguard and to investigate a case the CIA's involved in. Actually it's the matter Meryl might have stumbled over. But I have to admit that, apart from the investigation, I really enjoy college life."  
  
Mac let her gaze wander to the open sea, shading her eyes with her hand. "You know, before joining the Marine Corps my life's been one big mess. I was an alcoholic at sixteen and my abusive father succeeded to turn my home to hell. Being a member of a rich family and going to college without really worrying about anything has been a singular experience for me. My new life's easy-going and full of incredible events. But most of all, apart from having to keep up my cover, that is, I could just be myself. Especially with the marching band. I love being together with all of you. I rarely had so much fun. And though you may find it hard to believe: you got to know the real Sarah Mackenzie, not some made-up person. People may call me Patricia O'Hara, but the person they are friends with is none other than Sarah Mackenzie, living a part of her youth she never came to know."  
  
Turning her head to face a very thoughtful Jeannine, Mac continued: "So the person you trusted and called your friend will always be the same, the name doesn't really matter. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth but I wasn't allowed to. That's what I hate about undercover ops. You even have to lie to the people who mean something to you. But now that you found out anyway I can only tell you that I never betrayed your trust, neither did Harm. We're both your friends, and if you decide to see me as exactly the same person you considered your friend, we can continue our friendship as before."  
  
Jeannine smiled an unsure smile, obviously glad to have her friend back but not knowing how to react. "I... I'd be glad to, ma'am."  
  
Smiling, Mac held out her hand and presented herself in her unique minimalist manner: "Mac."  
  
Jeannine's smile widened as she took the offered hand and squeezed it. "Janni."  
  
"We must come up with something why we couldn't be on time for dinner," Mac said after a little while, thoughtfully chewing her lower lip.  
  
"Maybe Cmdr. Rabb could help?" Jeannine suggested with just the hint of a smile on her lips.  
  
Mac raised an eyebrow. "You think I should call him?"  
  
"Yep," Jeannine grinned.  
  
Chuckling, Mac pulled out her cell-phone, happy about the unexpected opportunity to talk to her sailor.  
  
On the third ring he picked up. "Rabb."  
  
"Hey, flyboy. It's me."  
  
"Mac!" His voice conveyed real surprise and joy. But concern immediately took over. "You're not supposed to call me. Something wrong? You okay?"  
  
Mac smiled at his rushed questions. "No, everything's fine. Could you just meet me at the Internet café as soon as possible, please? Something's come up."  
  
"I'll be right there. By the way: I love you, jarhead."  
  
"I love you, too, squid." With a smile Mac ended the connection and found Jeannine still grinning at her.  
  
"What?"  
  
"That was cute, ma'am... uhm, Mac," Jeannine corrected herself at seeing Mac's raised eyebrows.  
  
"Thanks. Harm will meet us at Nick's in five."  
  
Chatting, they set off to return to the café.  
  
Harm hurriedly entered the café and to his astonishment found Mac sitting in a hidden corner, together with Cadet Stiller. Disappointed that they wouldn't be able to talk freely, Harm snapped to professor's mode and casually strode over to his students.  
  
"Good evening, Cadet Stiller, Cadet O'Hara," he said, casting Mac a questioning glance.  
  
She just chuckled. "Save that for your lessons, flyboy. Janni found out."  
  
"I see..." He was unsure how to react to her comment. Mac signaled him to sit down and quickly gave him a peck on the cheek, causing him to blush and Jeannine to chuckle at the sight of the embarrassed commander.  
  
"Okay," he said, nervously clearing his throat, trying half a flyboy-grin. "What can I do for you, ladies?"  
  
"Sir," Jeannine spoke up with a smile, "We need you to come up with an excuse for us. We'll be late for dinner, and that means trouble as in t-r-o- u-b-l-e."  
  
"Uh huh...," he drawled, grinning. "Any propositions, Cadet, Colonel?"  
  
"Actually, yes," Mac said, causing Jeannine to look at her in surprise. "I just had an idea. I saw it once in the movie 'Curly Sue'."  
  
"Mac," Harm replied, dreading what was coming. "You were damn lucky you saved my life in Afghanistan with something you saw in a movie. You can't be sure luck will always be on your side."  
  
"No, but this time no one's life is at stake, sailor. You just have to knock me down with something heavy and take me to the college's medical department afterwards, claiming Jeannine called you 'cause I fell and hit my head hard." Mac smiled nonchalantly at his shocked expression.  
  
"No way, Mac. I won't hurt you." Harm's glance was icy. Jeannine watched the exchange with amusement. 'One mule just met another,' she thought.  
  
"Oh yes, you will," Mac shot back, still smiling. "It's the best we can come up with right now. And they'd believe everything you tell them."  
  
"Mac, I could never..."  
  
"Do I have to make this an order, Commander?" Mac asked pointedly.  
  
Jeannine stared. "You can order him?"  
  
Mac's grin was nasty. "Yep. I'm three months his senior in rank."  
  
Harm stared at his partner. "You wouldn't..."  
  
"Yes, I would. In fact, as you seem to be reluctant: Commander, I order you to knock me down and take me to the college's hospital. Now." Mac openly grinned at her wincing partner.  
  
Harm started to object but understood that opposition would be pointless if her mind was made up. And she was right: if, for being late, she and Jeannine would be confined to college grounds, the Carnegie Hall concert and even the investigation might be in danger. Sighing heavily, he asked: "Okay, where do we go?"  
  
"There's a quiet back street around the corner."  
  
They set off and arrived in a deserted little lane full of garbage. Mac took a look around and then grabbed a metal pipe. "Okay, this will do," she stated, handing it to Harm. "Now hit me on the head. Hard."  
  
Harm's stomach was origami-folding itself inside his belly. "Mac," he almost whined, "Don't do this to me, please. I could never forgive myself."  
  
Mac put her hands to her hips indignantly. "Don't be a coward. Consider this a matter of national security if it makes you feel better. Do you know what James Belushi tells his film-daughter when she's got to hit him? He says: 'Hit me as hard as you love me.' And she does. So: do you love me?"  
  
"Of course I do, but..."  
  
"Then hit me. Now!" Mac was getting exasperated.  
  
Closing his eyes, Harm took a deep breath. "I'm gonna regret this," he muttered. Then he raised the metal pipe and with a heartfelt "Forgive me, Sarah!" let it come down on her head. Mac immediately went down on the concrete. Harm dropped the pipe and knelt down at her side. "Mac, do you hear me? Mac!"  
  
Jeannine just stared at the scene. 'I think I understand what Mac meant when she said I'd not yet known what real friendship can mean.'  
  
Mac slowly opened her eyes. "Thorough work, Commander," she said with a strained smile, blood trickling down her cheek from a gash on her forehead.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Sarah," Harm whispered, gently stroking her face.  
  
"Don't be," she replied, "I ordered you."  
  
"But I am," he stated with a sigh.  
  
"Then you can work off your guilt by applying your make-up arts to my face, flyboy. Now take me to the college. Jeannine called you, remember? And, let's say I hit my forehead on the curb."  
  
Harm easily lifted her into his arms and set off for his car, signaling Jeannine to follow him.  
  
  
  
Thu, June 11th 0323 ZULU Medical facility Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Jeannine was sitting at Mac's bedside, watching over her sleeping friend. She was impressed by what the colonel had gone through just to save them from being confined to college grounds and to save the concert. And somehow she felt proud, too, to be a person the colonel liked to be friends with. 'I wouldn't mind being like her one day,' she thought.  
  
The door was cautiously opened and Harm tiptoed into the room. "How is she, Cadet?" he asked in a soft whisper.  
  
"Much better, sir," Jeannine replied just as softly. "She's incredibly brave, sir," she added, admiration shining in her voice.  
  
Harm smiled warmly as he looked at the sleeping woman. "She's incredible in every respect," he said.  
  
Jeannine was touched by the amount of feeling the commander's voice conveyed. "This investigation must be hard for you two, sir," she stated quietly. "I'll leave you alone. Don't worry, I'll stick to my room. I'll be safe. Give her my love when she wakes, sir."  
  
"Thank you, Cadet Stiller," Harm replied warmly, "I will."  
  
  
  
Same time Clayton Webb's office CIA Headquarters Langley, VA  
  
  
  
Just another long night at the office. Webb finished his twelfth cup of coffee and ran a hand through his hair. The Dwayne Myers investigation was proceeding far too slowly for his liking but it couldn't be helped. He trusted his JAG friends to work steadily and thoroughly. Harm had supplied him with a lot of useful details. The facts strongly pointed to the Gonzalez family. But they were still lacking one decisive hint that would justify an operation. Webb knew all he could do was wait for his friends to supply it but he hated having to be patient. Just as he had decided to go get his thirteenth cup of coffee, the telephone started to ring. Frowning, Webb lunged for the receiver. Who'd call him at this late hour?  
  
"Webb."  
  
"Mr. Webb? Nelson here."  
  
The Secnav. What could he possibly want from him? "Good evening, Secretary. What can I do for you?"  
  
"Actually, I'm calling to ask if you decided yet about the kind of operation you'll set up once Rabb comes up with the missing link."  
  
"We've not decided anything yet. Personally, my preference lies with a quick in-and-out op."  
  
"That wouldn't be a quiet one, would it?" Nelson carefully asked.  
  
Webb suppressed a grin. "Not really."  
  
"Is there... do you see any possibility you can keep this quiet, Mr. Webb?"  
  
"It'd be a little complicated but I guess we might be able to. Why, if I may ask?"  
  
"Well, Dwayne Myers suffered some critique recently, saying it was a high society place that didn't really succeed to form students to become promising officer's candidates. You know, Dwayne Myers students tend to have excellent connections in society. So the percentage of them who get good jobs in the military is higher than with any other naval college throughout the U.S. The navy invested a lot of effort to convince the public that concepts like valor, loyalty and unselfishness were just as strictly held up at Dwayne Myers as at any other naval college and that Dwayne Myers students are just as hard-working. A drug syndicate connected to the college might be the total ruin of its reputation and to the reputation of its students and their important families as well. And the navy would surely face enormous difficulties with fund-raising and with people suing the college."  
  
"I see," Webb consented. "So you're asking me to make it go unnoticed."  
  
"Yes, I am," Nelson stated.  
  
Webb's thoughts were flowing rapidly. The Secnav would owe him. And he, Clay, owed Harm and Mac for sending them to investigate. Why, this was the opportunity to get his debts off his back!  
  
"I think we can do that," Webb said and then casually went on: "But, as I happen to talk to you, would I ask too much if I bade you to do me a little favor concerning Cmdr. Rabb and Col. Mackenzie...?"  
  
  
  
Thu, June 11th 1235 ZULU Harm's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Harm woke as his fax started to beep. Silently swearing, he got up to retrieve the message. He had only gotten one or two faxes since he was at the college. Why did they always have to arrive when he could sleep in a little longer or when he went to bed early? Surely this would be just another ad telling him how to reduce his debts or what to do to prevent his skin from aging. He grabbed the two sheets and was just about to throw them in the nearby dustbin as he noticed the Secnav's letterhead on one of them. Curious, Harm sat down on the sofa and studied the papers. His astonishment grew when he found the first to be in Clay's handwriting.  
  
Harm,  
  
I feel I need to motivate you and Mac to get me the missing information ASAP. That's why I took the liberty of trading a favor the Secnav owed me. I intend to pay back my own debts to you two by doing so. You'll receive the original document the next time we meet. I just wanted to tell you that the Secnav wants the whole affair to be kept quiet. And I suggest you better do it. There's too much at stake with what he offers in return. Make the most of it.  
  
Clay.  
  
Totally at a loss about Clay's cryptic message, Harm took a look at the second page and his heart skipped a beat at what he saw.  
  
Subject: Regarding Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, both assigned to the Judge Advocate General Corps  
  
Answering to a special request ventured by Undersecretary of State Clayton Webb, referring to a wish expressed by the USN Judge Advocate General, Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden, I declare that the senior lawyer team assigned to JAG Headquarters, Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., USN, and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, USMC, receive the guarantee not to be obliged to change designator, regardless of whatever facts might suggest the necessity.  
  
Any event or situation whatsoever that is connected to Cmdr. Rabb and Lt. Col. Mackenzie and might cause conflict with chain-of-command regulations is to be considered of minor importance. In the interest of achieving continuity, regarding thoroughly conducted investigations and carefully researched and successfully argued court-martials, JAG Headquarters must not be deprived of its most efficient and successful personnel who set an example of excellent work to the entire JAG staff.  
  
Signed, Secretary of the Navy Nelson, Department of Defense  
  
With trembling hands, Harm put down the letter. "Thanks, Clay," he whispered to the silent room. 'Now we owe you,' he thought, fighting his commotion, 'But how on earth could we possibly ever repay this?' He longed to call Mac, to tell her at once what Clay had done for them. But he knew it was too risky, and then, even though she had been released from the hospital and had returned to her own room for the night, she had still been allowed to miss classes to recover from her injury. Harm would never wake her up now. But he had to talk to someone or he felt he'd burst.  
  
And all of a sudden, an idea sprang to his mind. 'Well, she'll probably shoot me for calling in the middle of the night, but when I tell her this...' He grabbed the phone and dialed the familiar number. He had to wait an endless minute until she picked up.  
  
"Burnett?"  
  
"Mom, this is Harm."  
  
"Harmon! Is something wrong?"  
  
"No, Mom, I'm fine. Sorry for waking you but I had to talk to someone."  
  
"Anything wrong with Mac?" 'Please, don't let it be, Lord,' Trish silently prayed. To her astonishment she heard her son chuckle softly.  
  
"No, Mom, on the contrary. The most extraordinary thing just happened and I need you to do me a big favor..."  
  
  
  
Thu, June 11th 2007 ZULU Music auditorium Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
The band was assembled and anxiously awaiting their newest addition. Harm had moved the rehearsals to the music auditorium where the cadets were sitting in orchestral formation as they would on stage.  
  
"The Italian seems to be a good friend of Cmdr. Rabb," Dorothy giggled, "Already late for his first rehearsal."  
  
"If he's half as cute as Rabb I won't mind," Cassandra retorted.  
  
Mac suppressed a fit of laughter.  
  
"Here they come!" Gary shouted. Everyone tried to get a glimpse of the Italian lieutenant.  
  
"My God, he could be Rabb's little brother!" Dorothy exclaimed, trying to keep her voice low.  
  
At her comment, Mac instantly thought of Sergei and compared him to Prumetti. 'Nah,' she thought, grinning.  
  
An "Attention on deck!" from Danny made them all snap to attention.  
  
Smiling, Harm and Fred approached the group. "At ease," Harm said with a smile. "Good afternoon, Cadets. As you see, our ticket to Carnegie Hall has arrived this morning from D.C."  
  
He ventured a rather nervous Fred to step forward, noticing the lieutenant was holding on to his clarinet as if it would keep him from falling. "Cadets, I present to you my friend and - as long as the Italian navy can spare him - fellow JAG lawyer Lieutenant, j.g. Federico Prumetti."  
  
Fred cleared his throat. "Good afternoon, Cadets. I'm pleased to meet you and I hope I'll be able to help you out with your concert." Once again he earned astonished glances at his Scottish accent.  
  
"Good afternoon, sir!" the cadets replied. Fred involuntarily jumped. 'I'm not used to being that much of a senior officer,' he thought, fighting an embarrassed grin.  
  
Harm kept his smile in check as he rushed to help his friend. "Cadets, we don't have much time and one hell of a schedule to follow to make it to Carnegie Hall. Let's go to work. Lt. Prumetti," he indicated a free chair and music stand between Jeannine and Pablo, "That would be your place when we play in orchestral formation. For your solo pieces I'll take your place and you'll stand right here, leading the band."  
  
As he saw Fred pale, he added: "According to Cmdr. Laird, it's the best guarantee the accompaniment does what you want them to do. And as to my part, I slightly changed Cmdr. Laird's arrangements, with his knowledge, of course, and inserted a guitar part into the pieces with the solo clarinet. The sound comes closer to the original. In order to get to know each other, I think we should actually start with a solo piece. Lieutenant?" Harm cast Fred an encouraging smile as he himself sat down next to Jeannine who handed him his guitar.  
  
The musicians tuned their instruments and then expectantly looked at Fred who desperately tried to dry his sweating hands on his uniform trousers. 'Damn,' he thought, 'I played at the La Fenice opera house. Why am I so nervous?'  
  
'Because you never thought you'd be a soloist on the stage of Carnegie Hall with only ten days to practice,' his subconscious answered, 'And you don't want to look bad in front of Harm.'  
  
'Well, I already did once,' he reminded his inner voice, 'In Venice, when I didn't tell him I was a lawyer because I was intimidated by his fame. Like I am now, although I know that this time I'm the professional.'  
  
'Then why not show him this time what you're capable of?' his subconscious suggested, 'Harm had four days to prepare for the charity concert, you have ten to prepare for Carnegie Hall. Come on, Tenente, you can do that!'  
  
'Yes, I can.' Fred lifted his chin, put on a charming smile and faced the waiting group. "I'd like to start with 'Stardust', Commander, Cadets, if you don't mind."  
  
"You got it, Lieutenant," Harm answered, unaware of the inward struggle his junior officer had just fought. "Take the lead. We'll follow."  
  
After a general rustle of music sheets, Fred put his instrument to his lips and, with a nod, cued in the band.  
  
Soft blues rhythms and serenade tunes instantly filled the auditorium. Mac, like half of the band, had no part in the solo pieces as sections of the band played in reduced numbers so they wouldn't cover Fred's melody. Closing her eyes, Mac leant back on her chair, her hand idly resting on the drum next to her to prevent the membrane from vibrating along with the bass notes. She felt hugged and caressed by the gorgeous harmonies and then suddenly electrified as, for the first time, she heard the solo clarinet. The sound seemed to swell from nowhere, coming forth on the right beat but not giving away when it had originated.  
  
Fred played as if he were singing, his tone velvety just like Nat King Cole's voice in the remade 'Stardust' version they had used for the 'Sleepless in Seattle' soundtrack. Jeannine, with an incredibly tender expression, played the counterpoint that would have belonged to a violin. From the rest of the band no single part was distinguishable, as all musicians were carried away by the melody and unselfishly inserted themselves into the general accompaniment.  
  
When the piece was over, Mac saw Cassandra quickly wipe away a tear from her cheek.  
  
Silence.  
  
"Wow." That was Dorothy, who succeeded in easing the tension with her remark. Cheers went up for the young lieutenant who had just proven himself fit to save the concert.  
  
Fred, feeling extremely relieved, sought Harm's eye and earned himself a radiant grin, together with an acknowledging nod. He knew he had finally overcome his shyness regarding the commander. 'Well, now I'm really looking forward to working with you, sir,' he quietly stated to himself, grinning back.  
  
  
  
Thur, June 18th 1432 ZULU Harm's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Harm's first notion at hearing his alarm clock was to knock it off the nightstand to silence it for good. But even slightly turning his head made him immediately regret the movement. God, he hadn't had a hangover for ages. 'I'm no longer used to it. Mac's influence,' he thought with a frown that at once made his head throb even harder. But he had to stop the noise somehow. Carefully, gritting his teeth, he reached over and switched off the dream-shattering device. And such a nice dream it had been, about a certain Marine without her uniform. Without any clothes in fact.  
  
'Mac!' The thought of her immediately made him get up and groggily walk over to his computer, switching it on. He'd gone out with Maribel and her cousins right after the rehearsal. Fred had stayed back, saying he wanted to practice. Poor guy. According to Chegwidden he'd practiced for four days before even coming up to New York. But hadn't Harm requested his assistance, starting right on Monday 8th? Well, counting the days Fred had taken for exercising, he'd in fact been helping him since Monday, even though he had arrived only yesterday. As a new wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him, Harm became aware that yesterday night he would have needed Fred badly for maintaining a little control. 'Whoa,' he thought, settling at his desk in slow motion. 'Did I ever tell anyone I liked Tequila? That's a damn lie!'  
  
Maribel still seemed distant and a little hostile, but she was obviously trying not to let it show. Her cousins had lured him into drinking more than he'd wanted to. There had been no way of escape. Harm only hoped that he hadn't spilled any secrets. He wouldn't, couldn't swear to it, though. When they had finally taken him home, he'd just collapsed on the bed. Half an hour later he had at least managed to pull himself up to undress and wash before settling down again. But he hadn't been able to read Mac's Wednesday mail yet. Harm shook his head at himself in disgust. He had been too drunk to open his mailbox.  
  
Shading his eyes against the all-too-clear screen, he found her mail and printed it for hangover-friendly reading. Making himself a cup of strong coffee on the return to the bedroom, he settled down on his bed and read, feeling better with every line.  
  
To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com) Subject: Good luck - you're gonna need it... (Just kidding!)  
  
My dearest Maestro,  
  
I just wanted to tell you I'm crossing all fingers available in my reach (mine and other people's... I can always order them!) for you for the concert. T minus four days and counting... How are you feeling?  
  
Well, I'm feeling rather sh...shameful. I know I'm only part of the band, seated in the last row but one and playing an instrument of minor importance. But: Sarah Mackenzie in concert at Carnegie Hall - this is all so weird. Jeannine does all she can to cheer me up. That girl's a miracle. She seems totally immune to stage fright although she's got major responsibility for the concert's success. But she actually seems to revel the adrenaline. I don't get it. But I'm a Marine, I'll handle it.  
  
I think rehearsals have gone extremely well so far. Even I can tell that by now and Janni confirms it. You're doing great, squid, and Fred's just marvelous. I get shivers down my spine when I hear him play. If we get all the pieces through without major problems, we should be able to present a good show on Sunday. I can't wait to see you in your dress whites!  
  
Rehearsing every day keeps wearing me out more than I'd thought possible. I can hardly get up in the morning, my limbs feel heavy and every now and then I even get a little dizzy. Don't worry, sailor, I'm okay. I think it's the aftermath of your blow on my head... oops, wrong choice of words. Don't feel guilty, Commander, that's an order. It's the aftermath of my plan, I wanted to say. The gash has healed off completely, and the blue on my forehead has turned to greenish yellow by now. I'll try your make-up techniques for the concert night.  
  
The Pablo problem still exists although he seems to notice that I've become a little distant of late. I think he suspects it's because of the stunt he pulled off sneaking into my room. But he tries to make up for it. So I have to imagine that all the flowers are coming from you or I might find myself throwing them out of the window.  
  
Seeing you with Maribel still hurts. I can see you're not as easy with each other as you used to be before... well, before the most beautiful experience in my entire life, let's put it that way, but I guess I'm rather jealous all the same. Don't tell the Corps.  
  
By the way, Jeannine keeps getting those sick letters. I still don't have the slightest clue about whom they could come from. Luckily she seems to get used to receiving them. And I think after the first shock of finding out who I am, she's glad she's got a Marine to watch her six. We're getting still closer. I really like her. I hope we can stay in touch when this is over.  
  
I'm very excited about the general rehearsal tomorrow afternoon. Trying out the Carnegie Hall stage. Wow. I hope I won't leave anything essential at home... Did I say 'home'? My God, what's become of me! This isn't home. Home is where you are, Harm. Wherever that is. I'm hugging you tightly and telling you not to worry about the concert. Can you feel my arms and hear my words? Anyway, I've got enormous faith in your abilities. You'll do just fine. And if you need an anchor on stage just look into my eyes. I'll be there for you. Always.  
  
I miss you so much. Hope it won't be long anymore.  
  
Sarah  
  
'God knows I miss you, too, my Sarah,' Harm thought, slowly relaxing at her warm words in combination with the effect the coffee had on his body. Sighing, he put the letter in a hidden drawer at the back of his nightstand and got up to take a shower.  
  
  
  
Thu, June 18th 2308 ZULU Carnegie Hall New York City, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Even the chatting was quieter than it normally used to be. Every single member of the Dwayne Myers marching band was in awe at the realization that they were in fact seated on the stage of one of the world's most famous concert halls. They were still occupied with shifting and re-shifting the position of their music stands and chairs in order to get the most efficient and esthetically best formation. When they finally all agreed that they'd found it, they tuned their instruments and waited for Harm to start the rehearsal.  
  
Harm was as nervous as if this were the actual concert. Very slowly he crossed the stage to get to his conductor's stand, taking in the vast, dark auditorium that seemed a cathedral while it was void of the public. 'You don't belong here. Run!' something deep inside him started to scream. Remembering Mac's email, he sought out her glance and found her giving him a barely noticeable smile of encouragement. 'I love you!' he thought as he felt himself relax.  
  
Fred was as pale as Harm, Mac noticed. He was desperately searching his bag for something and only upon hearing Harm clear his throat in his direction, he'd look up.  
  
"Any problems, Lieutenant?"  
  
"Actually, yes, sir," Fred stated in a slightly strained voice. "I can't find my 'Stardust' copy."  
  
'Don't do this to me, Prumetti,' Harm silently threatened his friend. "Did anyone take the lieutenant's score by accident?" he asked the band. A rustle of bags being searched was the answer, followed by everyone shaking their heads 'no'.  
  
'Damn.' "We'll leave it out for the moment, then," Harm decided, taking up his baton for the program's first song.  
  
They rehearsed the rest of the show without further damage to anyone's nerves, actually rejoicing in the enormous sound they created in the huge hall. Harm was beginning to relax. 'Laird told me something has to go wrong at the general rehearsal or the concert won't work,' he remembered. 'Maybe that's it.'  
  
"Sir," Jeannine suddenly spoke up as they had finished the last piece but 'Stardust'. "I just found a handwritten copy of Meryl's soloist part from 'Stardust' in my music bag. I'm totally at a loss about how it got there, but it's written well and maybe Lt. Prumetti could take it until he finds the original. I even think Meryl copied it herself." She held out several sheets of paper to the lieutenant who, with a grateful smile, took them and placed them on his stand.  
  
"Ready, sir."  
  
"Thank you, Cadet Stiller," Harm said, then turning to Fred. "Lead the way, Lieutenant."  
  
Fred confidently put the clarinet to his lips and they began to play. Mac, as always with this favorite song of hers, leant back to listen. She jumped when she suddenly heard several notes that seemed completely out of tune. Fred was frowning while he played on, intently studying his copy. Just as everything seemed to have come back to normal Fred again inserted a couple of terribly out-of-tune notes. Harm turned at him.  
  
"What's the matter, Lieutenant?" he hissed.  
  
Fred played on with an excusing and embarrassed expression, seeming at a loss. When the phenomenon occurred for the third time, Harm interrupted the music.  
  
"Heck, Lieutenant, what's the problem? Can't read your copy?"  
  
Fred's voice sounded miserable. "I can read it clearly, sir, and I swear I play whatever's written on the pentagrams. Cadet Waters must have erred tremendously in copying the score."  
  
"I doubt that, sir, if you'll excuse me," Jeannine cut in, worriedly. "Meryl may have had some discipline problems, but if she had one decisive trait in her character, it was her accuracy. She'd never copy mistakes or make them herself while copying."  
  
"Very well, Cadet," Harm replied, just a little annoyed, "But how do you explain this if it wasn't her?"  
  
"I don't know, sir. Maybe for a moment she thought she was writing something different..." Jeannine let her voice trail off, suddenly paling visibly.  
  
Mac noticed the change, worried. And she started to worry even more as she became aware of Harm's reaction. He succeeded to mask his expression in front of everyone. But not in front of her anymore. Mac could see Harm was puzzled to no end. Obviously his thoughts were heading in a similar direction as were Jeannine's.  
  
"Uhm, Lieutenant, may I see the score, please?" he said casually, his voice just a little hoarse.  
  
"Sure, sir." Fred handed it to him.  
  
Harm compared the pentagrams to the ones in his general partition and found his suspicion confirmed. 'Why, Stiller and Waters were good friends. They may have talked about the concept of hiding a message in a piece of music. If I'm right they both did just that, independently from one another. They just used different codes. Maybe if I can figure this out I can supply Webb with the missing link..."  
  
Getting all excited but trying not to let it show, Harm called off the rehearsal, saying they'd done enough for now and that they could do 'Stardust' when he'd corrected the score or when Fred had found the original.  
  
They headed home in the college bus, Harm nervously keeping the copy in his hands. This could turn out to be key evidence. Better not lose it.  
  
Upon arrival Harm immediately withdrew to his apartment and settled down to decode the message - if there turned out to be any, that was.  
  
  
  
Fri, June 19th 0617 ZULU Harm's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
  
  
  
Sighing in frustration, Harm ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. He had been studying the copy for the umpteenth time, trying rhythm, number and position of wrong notes, distance of wrong notes from one another, intervals between the notes and the following ones, between the wrong notes and the right ones in the original score, regrouping the wrong notes... nothing. The copy just seemed transcribed wrong and nothing else. But Harm couldn't fight the feeling that he'd stumbled over something that was right under his nose and that he just didn't see it for some reason.  
  
Getting up to pour himself a glass of water, he tried a different approach. Why would Waters leave a message in a copy of her own instrument's part? Probably to remember something important. But she had obviously been too afraid to write it down properly for whatever reason. If she had wanted to communicate something to somebody she'd have left a trace for that someone to find her message. If it had indeed been intended for somebody else, that someone had to be musical...  
  
'Hammer, you have been sleeping,' he scolded himself. 'Of course Waters intended the message for someone else. Stiller found the copy in her bag! Waters must have written it to her...' "My God!" Harm choked on his water, set the glass down with a 'clank' on the kitchen counter and rushed back to his desk.  
  
'Written to! Hammer, you mega-idiot! She has w-r-i-t-t-e-n to her! You thought of everything but the first thing that would have come to anyone else's mind! Try the wrong notes' names!' Eagerly Harm bent over the copy and wrote down the names of the notes that differed from the original score.  
  
"b-flat, e, a, c, b, c, a, f, e, b-flat, a, c, g-double-sharp, b-flat, c- double-sharp, e-flat, b, e, e-flat, c, a, e-flat, e," he read, frustration again getting the better of him. Nothing! But then something near the beginning of the line sprang to his eyes: letters six to ten spelled 'cafe'. It could be a coincidence, but he decided to clutch at the straws and try to figure out the rest.  
  
'Why all those flats and double-sharps,' he thought with a frown. He was sure it wouldn't make sense just omitting them and using the letters they were connected to. Waters must have put them in for some reason. Then the last four letters caught his attention and an idea began to form in his mind.  
  
"C-a-something-e," he read aloud, thinking hard. And suddenly he knew what to look for. When he had been fourteen years old, his mother and Frank had taken him to Los Angeles one evening for a guest performance of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. Harm remembered that, seeing the program booklet, he'd found it odd that Mozart's symphony number 38 in e-flat major had been written in German as 'Symphonie Nr. 38 in Es-Dur'. 'E-flat' according to the German system was called 'Es', pronounced like 'S'. Here was an additional letter for him to use, and it made the last word spell 'case'!  
  
Thinking of the other letters he might find, Harm grabbed his flashlight, the copy, the score and his legal pad and pen and headed for the college library. 'If you have a question about music, go to the library and ask your friend New Grove,' his guitar teacher had always told him. Harm had never yet found himself in a situation to follow his advice, but now it might provide the clue he was searching.  
  
Thankful that he didn't have to pick the lock, but could use the general key he had been given, Harm stepped into the dark, quiet room. Shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation - having to go to the library at 0130 in the morning without getting caught - Harm switched on his flashlight and started looking for the world's amplest music dictionary. He just hoped they even had it...  
  
He soon found that one of the advantages of the fact that Dwayne Myers was a wealthy institute was that they had a large number of volumes in their library that the college didn't really need but considered 'hip' to own. Among them figured the twenty-plus volumes of the New Grove Dictionary of Music.  
  
Holding the flashlight between his teeth and the papers he'd brought between his knees, Harm tried several entries until he found a list of note names according to the German system. He laid the book on the floor and knelt down, quickly copying the necessary information. 'B' was 'h' and 'b- flat' was just 'b', he found. The double-sharps being called 'gis' and 'cis' still didn't help him for his purpose, but as the message contained only two of them, he might figure out the sense without knowing what they meant. Harm got up, put the volume back on the shelf, quietly left the library and returned to his apartment.  
  
With trembling fingers he rewrote the message: 'beachcafebacxbxshescase'. Staring at the line, he contemplated about it only one or two minutes. Then, deciding to take the double-sharps as wild cards, he understood that he had to go and look for a case somewhere near the bushes at the back of one of the cafés on the beach. Swallowing heavily, Harm put on his shoes and a dark sweater.  
  
Harm had seen Mac at her window once. Now, slowly circling around House Mistral, he tried to remember which one it had been. It wasn't that he really needed her to recover the object, but it would definitely be easier with two, one holding the light and watching out and the other digging or whatever was necessary. And figuring out something with the capacity of two brains instead of one could also mean it would be done quicker. And, he silently admitted to himself, he desperately needed to see her alone.  
  
Having completed three circles around the house, Harm was now sure enough about which one was Mac's window to try and contact her. Cell-phone was out of the question and her front door would mean Jeannine would wake as well. So he had to apply stone-age methods. He picked up a small pebble, aimed carefully and gently threw it against her windowpane. He jumped at the 'clink' that seemed very loud to him, but obviously no one but him had noticed it. Not even Mac, it seemed, as she didn't show up or give any sign of activity.  
  
Harm was about to give it another try when he suddenly detected a movement inside her dark room. He couldn't suppress a grin when he saw the top of her head become visible just barely above the windowsill, next to her something that could be the butt of a gun. 'My Marine, always in combat mode,' he thought lovingly. Stepping out of the shadows, he signaled her to come down and indicated his dark clothing, making her eyes grow wide. After a moment of astonishment she nodded and vanished from the window. Three minutes later he saw her coming around the corner of the house.  
  
He waved to her to join him in the shadows and silently encircled her in his arms. She let him hold her and buried her face on his chest, holding on to him. Only after some minutes she drew back slightly and looked at him with a questioning smile.  
  
"What's this about, Sherlock?" she asked in a low voice.  
  
"Is this the proper way to welcome your lover?" he replied with a raised eyebrow, grinning.  
  
"I'll welcome you properly when you tell me what this is about," she stated stubbornly.  
  
"Kiss me first, Watson," he suggested smugly.  
  
"Okay," she complied with a smile and a sigh, stepping close again and bringing her lips to his in a passionate kiss that lasted another thirty seconds. When they finally parted, panting, she again looked up at him, tilting her head to one side.  
  
"This is about the 'Stardust' copy, right?" she guessed.  
  
Harm gave her an appreciating grin. "Good thinking, Cadet O'Hara." Then he sobered and told her what he'd just found out.  
  
"I'm impressed, Commander," she said, her voice devoid of any teasing. "There could indeed be something to it. Let's go find out. And spend some time together on a moonlit beach," she added with a contagious grin.  
  
"Good thinking again, Cadet," he remarked and, taking her hand and carefully sticking to the shadows, guided her to a gate in the campus wall opposite the main entrance that only the professors had a key to. He quickly let the two of them out and locked the gate behind them. They still kept to the shadows of trees and houses until they had put a comfortable distance between themselves and the college.  
  
Feeling secure, they slowed down their pace and walked down to the beach, strolling along the shore hand in hand.  
  
"Now, Mac, do you know how many cafés there are on the beach?" he asked her.  
  
"Too many," she replied, frowning, "But I suggest we start with the 'Driftwood'. It's about half a mile from here and I happen to know it was some kind of a hangout for Jeannine, Meryl, Dorothy and Cassandra. Janni took me there once. If I were Meryl I'd choose that place to leave something for Jeannine."  
  
"I see your point," Harm agreed. "This direction?"  
  
"Yup." They silently wandered on, Mac leaning to Harm's shoulder, both enjoying the warmth and closeness of the other.  
  
"Awfully romantic, isn't it?" Harm chuckled after a while as the moon came out behind a cloud.  
  
"I'm beginning to rather like this investigation," Mac retorted with a grin. "Pity we can't stay here all night. I can think about a lot of nice things to do on a moonlit beach in a warm summer night. But I don't want to leave Jeannine alone too long."  
  
"Yeah..." he murmured consent, his stomach tightening as he imagined what he'd like to do to her on a moonlit beach.  
  
"Here we are," she woke him from his reverie, indicating a small house on the beach. On the waterside it had a huge wooden porch stretching out across the sand. The back of the café was surrounded by small trees and bushes. Making sure no one was in sight, they walked over to the house.  
  
"Could you hold that, please?" Harm handed Mac his flashlight and knelt down to study the terrain. For about ten minutes he scrutinized every inch of his surroundings, swearing low when he didn't find any indication that might point to some hidden object. Mac was about to suggest they try out another café when he suddenly locked his gaze on a small piece of ground between two bushes where significantly less herbs were growing. He pulled up his sleeves and carefully began to dig. Mac watched in silence.  
  
"Bingo," he finally stated in a low voice, pulling a small object out of the hole he'd dug. Mac switched off the light and, in silent agreement that Mac had to get back to Jeannine, they headed back to the college.  
  
Once again inside the campus walls, Harm drew Mac into the shadows of the library and once more tightly embraced her, claiming her lips with his. Mac responded ardently. They hadn't been able to exchange even a handshake for two weeks now after their hallmark weekend. Longing and passion soon threatened to overwhelm them. Reluctantly breaking the kiss after a few endless moments, Harm rested his forehead against Mac's.  
  
"God knows, I'd like to take you up to my apartment, Sarah, and make love to you all night long. But given the situation..."  
  
"Yeah," she whispered. "I miss you so much, Harm."  
  
"You know what," he suggested, "When this is over we'll take a couple of days off and go someplace nice. Just you and me. We'll take 'Sarah' and fly up in the mountains, for example. We could go and see my Grandma Sarah. What d'ya say?"  
  
"I'd love to," she sighed, "Can't wait."  
  
Harm smiled and softly kissed her one more time. "I'll examine this... thing and let you know what's inside via email. Off you go now, Cadet. It's past your bedtime, you know."  
  
"Aye, sir," Mac whispered, kissing him back. "Sweet dreams, flyboy."  
  
"To you, too." He watched her carefully and quickly run over to House Mistral and then returned to his own apartment.  
  
Upstairs, Harm once again sat down at his desk and examined the object they had retrieved from its secret hiding place. It was a rusty metal case secured with what seemed meters of cord to keep it shut. It took him a full fifteen minutes to get rid of the cord but finally he had completed the task. Subconsciously holding his breath, Harm opened the case and inside found a notebook. Opening it on page one, he read: 'Cruise diary, 04-20 - 04-30, Meryl Christine Waters, Cadet Second Year, Dwayne Myers Naval College'.  
  
"This is getting more interesting all the time," he muttered to himself as he stretched out on the couch and began to read.  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	5. Chapter five - conclusion

'Dissonance' - Chapter Five Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Chapter One  
Sun, June 21st 1545 ZULU Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
Frowning, Harm put on his cover as he stepped out onto the sunlit campus. If the temperature continued to rise as it did, his dress whites would be soaked by the time he had to go on stage tonight. Normally, he'd have changed into them only after a nice cold shower around 1700, but something had come up that forced him to wear them all day. Yesterday morning the news had spread across the campus that Senator Hillary Clinton had decided to visit the college this morning and attend the concert in the evening. So for her reception, all had been ordered to wear dress uniforms. 'The only good thing about all this is that I actually get to see Mac wear dress whites,' he thought with a smile.  
  
Cadets, professors, personnel and guests were gathering on the central plaza where the members of the band were already setting up music stands and chairs. As Harm was slowly walking over to his musicians, he heard a familiar voice call out to him.  
  
"Commander Rabb! Sir!"  
  
He turned around and a radiant smile lit up his face. "Bud! My God, Lieutenant, it's so good to see you! And you, Harriet," he greeted the young blonde who, after so many months, for the first time seemed as happy and good-natured as they'd always known her before Bud's injury.  
  
Bud approached to greet his friend, walking with the aid of crutches. Harm raised his eyebrows. "This looks good, Bud. Last time I saw you, you were still in a wheelchair."  
  
"Yeah, but a couple of months ago they gave me this," he knocked one crutch against the leg he had originally lost, letting hear a muffled 'clank' through the uniform trousers. "Do you remember the movie 'Forrest Gump', sir? Well, this one is a model they developed on the basis of the prostheses they gave Lieutenant Dan, you know, those high-tech things. Only that he had two of them." Bud's smile still had a sad edge but Harm could tell he was fighting hard to carry on, and he was enormously relieved to find Bud so much changed for the better, compared to when he'd last met him.  
  
"Well, I'd say you're doing great, Bud."  
  
To his astonishment, Harm saw the lieutenant smile a little embarrassedly. "Not really, sir. You know, I'm supposed to walk without crutches by now."  
  
"And he's really good at it," Harriet eagerly cut in.  
  
"But on special occasions like today I'm always afraid I might lose my footing and fall," Bud admitted, "So I take the crutches. I feel more secure."  
  
"I don't think having that bit of security on a special occasion will prolong your rehab very much, " Harm said with a reassuring smile, gently patting his friend on the back.  
  
Just then Harm caught a glimpse of Mac carrying her drum over to the band. She looked over, saw her friends and felt she couldn't resist the urge to come over and greet them personally. So when she'd joined the band, she turned to Dorothy.  
  
"Dorrie, I'll just leave my drum with you for a second, okay? I see Cmdr. Rabb standing over there and I need to ask him something about the repetition of the second half of 'Madhouse'. You know he's gonna be all giddy when he finally joins us."  
  
"Sure, go ahead."  
  
Taking her 'Madhouse' score, Mac gladly walked over to the little group of officers that fortunately stood a little away from other people, at least far enough not to be overheard.  
  
Harriet tugged at Harm's sleeve and made him turn in Mac's direction, just as she came to attention in front of her friends. Suppressing a grin, Harm saluted back.  
  
"At ease, Cadet O'Hara," he said with a wink and earned a slight smile from Mac in return. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"Sir, I wanted to ask you what you decided concerning my part in the repetition of the second half of 'Madhouse'." With a wink she opened the score and started to point out something to him. He played along, bending slightly over the sheets. Harriet and Bud came a little closer, as if they were interested in the advice Harm gave one of his students.  
  
"Bud, it's so good to see you!" Mac said in a low voice, never taking her eyes off the pentagram Harm was pointing out to her.  
  
"Same here, ma'am," Bud said, intently looking at Harriet, "Did you know dress whites become you, ma'am?"  
  
Harriet had to fight hard to keep her straight face as she seemingly addressed Harm. "Ma'am, how are things going? The commander torturing you with homework?"  
  
Harm nodded, seeming to consider the options for Cadet O'Hara's involvement in the 'Madhouse' arrangement.  
  
Mac, too, looked up at Harm questioningly, as she replied: "I'm standing my ground, Harriet. Lately we seem to have made progress with the investigation, so, with a bit of luck, we might be out of here soon."  
  
Harm cleared his throat and after a whispered "There's something to dress whites, I admit, Marine," said: "That's how we do it, Cadet. Now, please go and join the others. I'll be right with you."  
  
"Aye, sir," said Mac, snapping to attention with the hint of a threatening smile in his direction for his last remark.  
  
"Dismissed." Again, Harm greeted her and she turned and walked back to the band.  
  
"Is she okay, sir?" Harriet asked concerned.  
  
Harm suppressed a grin. 'Somehow I get the feeling she's never been better,' he thought. "Mac's just fine, Harriet. We exchange a lot of emails and as far as I know, she's doing well. She's one of my most ardent students," he added, letting his grin finally come out.  
  
"I see," Harriet smirked. Bud silently smiled to himself, comfortably leaning on his crutches.  
  
Harm glanced at his watch. "I'm sorry, folks, but our guest will arrive shortly and we're supposed to be playing when she does. Bud, I want you and Fred to join me after the reception. I need to show you something that's really interesting."  
  
"Aye, sir," Bud replied with a smile. It felt good to be back.  
  
The official part of the morning went rather well. The band played two pieces at Senator Clinton's arrival, the 'Stars and Stripes' and 'Blue Skies' from the Goodman program. Fred had some difficulties coping with his saber while playing. Tonight covers, gloves and sabers wouldn't be worn on stage but now, being at an open-air reception, they were. He tried not to move too much and luckily his tone didn't suffer from his uneasiness. Bud and Harriet were impressed and said that much to Claire who had joined them by now.  
  
After the speeches and thanks part the band played a short march and Senator Clinton approached and exchanged a few words with Harm. While guests and college inhabitants shared a drink on the plaza, the Senator was given a short tour around the college grounds. When she returned, all went to have lunch and only after that, Harm found a possibility to pull his friends aside.  
  
"I think you haven't met yet, have you?" Harm looked at the lieutenants.  
  
"No, sir, I haven't had the pleasure," Fred said a little stiffly, indicating that he was nervous once again.  
  
Harriet had obviously briefed Bud about this trait of Fred's character. He smiled, indicating that he didn't take offence. "Lieutenant Bud Roberts. Pleased to meet you."  
  
Fred relaxed a little and immediately took up his officer-and-gentleman attitude again. "Lieutenant, j.g. Federico Prumetti, sir. My friends call me Fred. Equally pleased to meet you, sir."  
  
"Lieutenants, let's take this to the library," Harm said quietly, motioning for them to follow him.  
  
They walked over to the impressive building and entered it. Harm led them to a quiet room where some older geographical items were stored. Reaching behind a row of books on a shelf, he pulled out Cadet Waters's diary.  
  
"What's that, sir?" Fred asked, curious.  
  
"This seems to be the missing link in the crime scheme," Harm explained. "We still don't have any ideas about who killed her, but Cadet Waters at least supplied us with the organization of the drug commerce the CIA's been investigating."  
  
"Uhm, how so, sir?" Bud asked.  
  
"I'll read you some of her notes," Harm said. "So, here goes:  
  
'Monday, April 20th: All aboard the Cleveland. Nice ship. It's got two...'  
  
"wait, I'll leave that out, that's just description... yadayadayada... okay,  
  
'We're only eight cadets this time, actually I don't know why. Anyway, it's going to be nice. Sure, I already miss Pablo, but as Pedro...'  
  
"that's Pedro Godoy, fourth year, a cousin of the Gonzalezes,  
  
'As Pedro's supervising it'll be fun.'  
  
"The next four days go smoothly, she writes about almost everything and nothing. She spends a lot of time with Cadet Godoy. But now it gets really interesting.  
  
'Saturday, April 25th: Arrived at Kingston in the morning. We were given a few hours of leave. I'm a little disappointed in Pedro. He's been very curt and almost rude all day. He knows Kingston and I asked him to show me some of it. But he wouldn't . Normally he'd agree at once. When I asked him why not, he said he had something to do for his uncle's firm. Wouldn't be the first time I'd be around when they cut deals. I've accompanied Pablo more than once and even Pedro, a few weeks back. But he said he didn't want me around, and the way he said it! Don't think I'll forgive him very easily! I have been out with Mills and Scott instead. Was okay, I guess. Only that neither of us knew what we were looking at. Pedro's only just returned. I'm sure he's in trouble. The skipper doesn't like it when you're late! When I finished my turn of duty, I went down to the galley to greet the cook. His name's Raoul Alvarez and he makes an awesome gumbo! He's about forty and he's a nice guy. We mainly talk about music. He loves salsa and Cuban 'son' and he knows a lot about them. Nice pastime. Talked to Pablo on the phone - too short (sigh!). Tells me not to worry about Pedro getting moody at times. Don't know if I like it.'  
  
"Okay... yadayada... here's the crucial passage:  
  
'Tuesday, April 28th: Though Pedro's back to normal after our departure from Kingston, today he's acting like a jerk again. We arrived in Miami and I asked him again about taking a stroll. He was even more blunt than he was earlier. Right now I'm sitting here all alone. I'd waited for him to get off duty, so all the others are already gone and all over town. Guess, I'll go find Raoul. He's always got fresh coffee for me. I feel like I need it right now.'  
  
"The next bit seems scribbled very quickly and her handwriting's a bit shaky.  
  
'Been down to the galley. No sign of Raoul. Decided to fix my own coffee. No coffee. Went into storage. Looking for coffee, I stumbled over a pile of sacks I hadn't seen 'cause they were kind of hidden in a corner. One fell down and opened. Looked like flour. Actually read 'flour' on the sack. But I know where the flour is stored and they normally use a special type. Raoul explained that to me when he showed me how to fix his famous special pancakes. Got suspicious and tasted. I'll be damned if that's flour! I don't know what exactly they keep down there but I'm almost sure it's some kind of a drug. God, I'm beside myself! Looked up the loading lists from Norfolk, the flour isn't on it. I don't know who's brought it on board and how and how he wants to clear it back at Norfolk. I'm gonna call Pablo. He always knows what to do.'  
  
"So that's her initial mistake. She actually called the Gonzalezes of all people! Anyway, no long entries the next day. I'll skip to the last entry which is rather interesting, too.  
  
'Thursday, April 30th: God, I can't wait to get off this ship! I'm scared out of my mind and what doesn't really help is that my strange behavior seems to annoy my friends. Pedro and Raoul, mostly. They eye me suspiciously and avoid me. I've tried to calm down but I can't. Pablo called yesterday, saying he was calling from a payphone as his cell was broken. I can't reach him. I need Janni, badly. I need to tell her. But somewhere deep in my gut I have a really bad feeling. So I decided to leave a backup message for her in case I don't get round to telling her for whatever reason. Someone should know besides me. So there'll at least be two of us to try and straighten out this mess! I'll store this diary someplace safe and leave a hint that she'll be able to work out. I don't dare to do it openly. My God, I wish we were back!'  
  
"That's it. I already called Webb this morning. He's got his people working on it right now, and he's confident to have it all wrapped up before night. What do you think, Lieutenants?"  
  
Fred and Bud exchanged a frown. "Pretty obvious, I'd say," Fred stated, slightly shocked.  
  
"I think so, too," Bud agreed. "So now that Webb is..."  
  
He didn't get any further than that because suddenly Fred whirled around, instinctively drew his saber as he didn't carry a sidearm with his dress whites, and shouted to Harm: "Sir! Watch out!"  
  
Harm instantly dragged Bud out of the line of fire as the first shot rang out. Immediately taking in the situation, he knew at once that their odds were miserable. Outside, the brass ensemble of the band, together with the percussion, had begun to play a little on their own, obviously entertaining the guests. The library was rather far from the dorms or the plaza. And with the loud music he was sure no one could have heard the shot that had been muffled by a silencer.  
  
They were unarmed. The only 'weapons' they had were Fred's decorated steel saber and one of Bud's crutches - he had lost the other when he was dragged out of the way. They were cornered between two shelves, their way out blocked by four Hispanic-looking men carrying guns with silencers. They couldn't have run, anyway, with Bud at their side. Silently glancing at each other and swallowing heavily, the three navy officers squared their shoulders and lifted their heads, preparing to meet their destiny as the four assaulters slowly closed in on them.  
Same time Plaza Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
Jeannine was listening to the brass band, enjoying the fact that for once Cassandra had the lead and she could actually listen. For the first time she really watched Mac playing her drum. 'For someone who didn't even know how to really read music three weeks ago, she's doing great,' Jeannine observed to herself, her admiration for the colonel still growing. Yes, one day she would be like her, she promised to herself once again.  
  
Suddenly she became aware that the 'Stardust' topic hadn't been mentioned yet. Feeling that she absolutely needed to make sure the right copy had been found, and silently wondering if indeed there could have been more to the score than just errors, she resolved to find Cmdr. Rabb. As she didn't see him around, Jeannine approached the blonde lieutenant he seemed to be friends with. Maybe she knew where he was.  
  
"Excuse me, ma'am." Jeannine snapped to attention.  
  
Harriet, who was animatedly talking to Claire, turned around and with a smile saluted back. "Yes, Cadet? Can I help you?"  
  
"Cadet Jeannine Stiller, ma'am. I play the solo flute in the marching band and I need to find Cmdr. Rabb. Do you happen to know where I can find him?"  
  
Harriet kept her eyebrows from rising. So this was the poor girl who had come to see Harm. In a gentler voice still, she answered: "I do, Cadet. I think he's gone to the library with my husband and Lt. Prumetti."  
  
"Thank you very much, ma'am."  
  
"You're welcome, Cadet."  
  
Jeannine greeted again and Harriet with a smiling salute dismissed her.  
  
Upon entering the silent building of the library Jeannine suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Had that been a gunshot she'd just heard? Feeling herself start to tremble heavily, she thought of Mac and willed herself to stay calm. Cautiously she followed the long corridor in the direction that she suspected the shot to have come from.  
  
At the back, a door stood slightly ajar. She heard angry hisses and muffled commands. Holding her breath, she carefully peeped around the corner and stifled a cry at what she saw. Rabb, Prumetti and the lieutenant's husband were gagged and being bound. Rabb was lying on the floor. He had bruises on his temple. The others seemed to be all right, except for their pallor.  
  
"Les traemos a la cabaña de barcas, debajo la resaca del pinar. El jefe aguarda a nosotros allí," Jeannine heard one of the kidnappers say. [We get them to the boathouse, along the shore with the pines. The boss will be waiting for us there.]  
  
When she saw them begin to lift the commander, Jeannine knew she had to get away ASAP. Slipping out of her shoes and taking them in her hands, she sprinted out of the library at top speed.  
  
Outside the building she put her shoes back on and casually strolled over to the plaza. The brass ensemble had just finished another piece and Jeannine seized the opportunity and slipped between the musicians of the percussion group, her expression immediately telling Mac that something was wrong. With a smile Mac excused herself and followed Jeannine who led her over to where Harriet and Claire were standing.  
  
Astonished to see Mac and Stiller coming to attention before her, Harriet put them at ease and, with growing anxiety at the Cadet's expression, asked for an explanation. She could see that Mac was just as curious as herself and Claire.  
  
"Ma'am, the commander, your husband and Lt. Prumetti have just been taken hostage," Jeannine quickly told them in a guarded voice. "Some Spanish speaking guys are going to take them to a hidden boathouse I happen to know. The commander seems to be injured."  
  
Mac had to refrain from jumping as Jeannine mentioned Harm. She had to stick to her cover. Nothing but the tight edge in her voice conveyed her inward turmoil. "How do we get there?" she whispered.  
  
"It's past the 'Driftwood'. After half a mile we have to turn left," Jeannine explained quietly.  
  
Harriet had by now regained her composure and knew she had to play the part of the highest-ranking officer. She put on a grim face. "Well, then, Cadet Stiller, Cadet O'Hara, Miss Farnham, I suppose it's up to us to rescue the guys. Follow me to the gate, I'll get you past the guards."  
  
"I have my sidearm in my apartment," Mac said. "I'm going to get it."  
  
"And I know where Fred's is," put in Claire, trying to steady her voice.  
  
"Okay. We'll meet at the gate in five. Dismissed, Cadets," Harriet said.  
  
"Aye, ma'am," Jeannine and Mac replied, turned and left the plaza, trying not to be too conspicuous.  
  
Five minutes later, four women - a lieutenant and two cadets, all in dress whites, and a civilian, clad in a stylish light-blue suit - approached the main entrance to the college. Claire stayed back a little while Harriet, Mac and Jeannine approached the guard, a young Marine corporal who instantly came to attention.  
  
"Ma'am!"  
  
"At ease, Corporal!" Harriet's voice would have intimidated any Marine. "I'm Lt. Harriet Sims, JAG headquarters. I need those two, Cadet Second Year Jeannine Stiller and Cadet Second Year Patricia O'Hara, to accompany me on an errand."  
  
The corporal hesitated a second as if to object, then met Harriet's icy stare and wrote down the names. "Aye, ma'am." Claire handed him her visitor's badge and the foursome set off in the direction of the beach, silently condemning their high heels.  
  
They had taken off their shoes to be able to walk faster on the sand. As they approached the 'Driftwood', the beach was starting to get rather crowded so they put them on again and, chatting, fell into a companionable strolling pace, trying to make people believe they were enjoying the sun. They knew they were rather conspicuous in their dress uniforms and that fact would be a hinderance once they got near the boathouse, but time was short and it couldn't be helped. Eventually, Jeannine stopped.  
  
"We have to take this path between the dunes, ma'am," she told Harriet.  
  
"Okay," Harriet replied without a moment's hesitation. "So we'll do it just as we planned on the way here. Claire and Mac, you are armed, so you go to the rescue, while Jeannine and I keep the guards busy. Let's just hope there's not too many of them."  
  
"I'll have to get on top of the boathouse," Claire said, "So what if I went first and signaled you from that dune over there how many of them are down there?"  
  
"Good thinking, Claire," Mac replied. "I'll go for the direct approach between the dunes as soon as Harriet and Janni have the guards' attention. Signal me when you see them. I'll stay right here until you do."  
  
"Okay."  
  
The four women for a moment looked silently at each other. "Good luck," they finally said simultaneously. The following chuckles somewhat managed to ease the tension.  
  
Claire put on a grim half-grin, stuffed her shoes into the pockets of her jacket and began to climb the dunes. A couple of minutes later she reappeared on the dune she had pointed out, holding up four fingers of her right hand, with her left hand indicating that those four guards were outside. She then pointed her right index down directly and visibly shrugged as if to say that she didn't know how many men were inside the boathouse.  
  
Harriet acknowledged with a nod, put on a radiant smile, wrapped her arm around Jeannine's shoulder and began telling her stories of little AJ, walking towards the boathouse. Mac waited, silently praying that Harm hadn't played the hero once again. 'God, let him be okay,' she kept repeating fervently in her mind. Finally Claire signaled her to approach. Trying to stay close to the dunes, Mac set off, her gun drawn. She saw Claire cautiously lower herself from above onto the roof of the boathouse, taking out Fred's sidearm.  
  
As Mac peeped around the last dune that separated her from the boathouse, she saw Harriet and Jeannine converse happily with two of the guards.  
  
"You know, we're not from here. It's so easy to get lost," she heard Harriet say with an embarrassed laugh, casting one of them a flirtatious smile. The man seemed to be flattered and started pointing something out to her, the other one eager to contribute his part and earning himself an equally seductive, innocent smile. Harriet had taken off her jacket and casually held it in front of her belly, thus covering the little swell that otherwise would have been noted.  
  
'Good job, Lt. Sims.' Mac would have grinned at the display, had she not been consumed with worry for Harm's well-being.  
  
The guards that Harriet and Jeannine were talking to had now their backs turned to the boathouse, indicating and explaining some path to the charming young women.  
  
'Men,' Mac thought, 'How stupid can they get? They have no defense against feminine wiles.' From her hideout she looked over to Claire who by now lay flat on top of the house. Claire signaled to her that the other two guards were at the back of the house, one starting to come to the front.  
  
'I'll take out the one at the back,' she mouthed to Mac, underlining her words with gestures. Mac understood and prepared herself. As the fourth guard came around the corner she let him pass her and then silently and swiftly stepped out of her cover behind him and efficiently knocked him down with the butt of her gun. The man went down without uttering a syllable.  
  
Mac looked up to the roof and saw one of Claire's arms rise, her gun's butt ready to come down on someone's head. By the muffled 'thud' she heard a moment later, Mac knew that it actually had. She decided it was showtime.  
  
Harm had a massive headache but he tried to ignore the throbbing. He didn't have a clue where they were or how they got there. The only thing he remembered was that he had stepped out from between the bookshelves with his hands up, trying to negotiate a release for Bud and Fred, saying that he was the investigator. And he remembered the heavy blow he'd felt on his head before all had gotten dark around him.  
  
He had realized that his hands and feet were bound, as were those of Bud and Fred who were sitting next to him. By unspoken agreement, neither of them said anything as they were first questioned by a man unknown to them and by Juan Gonzales himself about who this 'Webb' was and who knew about the affair.  
  
The kidnappers had first tried their luck with Bud, believing him to be the weakest, but he had remained silent. They had taken off his prosthesis and kicked his stump cruelly several times, causing him to wince sharply as the injury still hurt badly. But although Harm could see silent tears of pain trickle down the lieutenant's cheeks, Bud stubbornly pressed his lips together, lifted his chin and stared back at his torturers. Harm was incredibly proud of his young friend.  
  
But now the situation was starting to get out of hand. Juan Gonzalez, with an evil grin, took Fred's saber and approached the Italian lieutenant, locking his gaze with Harm's.  
  
"Commander, I know you like this young man, don't you?" he asked maliciously, pointing the saber at Fred's throat. The lieutenant closed his eyes and tried not to move although he was starting to tremble badly.  
  
"Leave him alone, Gonzalez!" Harm roared. "It's me you're after!"  
  
"He knows about us, so we're after him, too," Gonzalez replied coldly. "But I might just spare him if you tell me what I want to know. Consider your options, Rabb. Do you want to be responsible for your friend's painful death? Or do you prefer to talk?"  
  
"Don't, sir!" Fred managed to choke out.  
  
Harm swallowed and closed his eyes. It was hopeless. He knew they'd be shot anyway. The syndicate wouldn't let people live who knew what they did. But he might at least spare Bud and Fred from further torture. "No need for heroes, Fred," he said quietly, a sad smile on his lips. "All right, Gonzalez. I'll tell you whom I contacted and what I told him. Let go of my friend."  
  
He tried to steady himself, drawing a deep breath. 'Mac,' he thought, feeling bitter sadness. 'I'm sorry. I wanted so much to be with you. I thought finally God had mercy upon us and let us have our future together. There's nothing in the world that I've been looking forward to so much as growing old at your side and seeing our kids grow up. I only hope that one day you'll find the man who'll finally be able to give you the love and family you deserve. I wanted to be that man but it seems it wasn't meant to be. But at least I had the guts to tell you. That'll be my comfort. I'll miss you, my favorite Marine.'  
  
Suddenly his head snapped up as he heard the door being forced. Gonzalez and the other man whirled around. A shot rang out, and Harm's heart skipped several beats when he saw his Sarah standing in the doorway, her gun pointed at Gonzalez, whose shirt had started to turn red. With an expression of utmost horror, the Columbian swayed and fell to the ground.  
  
From the corner of his eye, Harm detected a movement. "Mac! Watch out!" he shouted.  
  
Another shot was fired, not from Mac's gun, but not from the other man's, either. As the second kidnapper silently went down from a shot to the head, Harm and his coworkers just stared at the trembling figure that had appeared in the doorway. Claire Farnham's tears started to flow freely and she broke down where she was standing, sobbing violently: "I killed a man! My God, I'm a doctor, and I killed him!"  
  
Hearing the gunfire, the guards started and turned their heads in the direction of the boathouse. But before they had time to think, Harriet silently and efficiently exercised her Singer-tested right hook on the distracted man and efficiently took him out. The second guard started to draw his gun but Jeannine's knee very pointedly met his most sensible parts and the pain made him drop the gun and drop to his knees. Harriet picked up the gun and pistol-whipped him with it to knock him unconscious."  
  
"Not my type, anyway," she muttered, satisfied, and, together with Jeannine, ran over to the boathouse.  
  
They arrived to find Mac trying to console a totally broken-down Claire. "Claire, you had no choice. If you hadn't shot him he would have shot someone else. Fred, maybe. It was self-defense."  
  
Claire looked up with a tear-stained face. "But I am a doctor, Mac," she said in a low voice. "I swore an oath to save life, not to take it."  
  
Harriet had instantly understood that freeing Fred was priority number one right now. As soon as she had untied him, the lieutenant ran over to his fiancée and took her into his arms, rocking her gently and soothingly whispering to her in Italian, thus giving them a little privacy. Jeannine untied the two other officers and took whatever rope was left outside to use it on the guards to allow the others privacy as they reunited with their loved ones.  
  
Harriet was too shaken to speak. She and Bud just fiercely held on to one another, crying with relief. Mac went over to Harm and gently encircled him in her arms, suppressing a sob. Examining his bruises, she very slowly felt him relax as he realized that they still had each other.  
  
"I was so scared, Mac," he confessed in a low voice. "Not so much for my life. But for losing our love and our future. I thought I'd never see you again."  
  
Remembering that she still had to refrain from openly showing her feelings, she just held him, gently caressing his hair. "I was scared out of my mind, flyboy," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. "You okay?"  
  
"I am now. Thank you for saving my life once again, Sarah."  
  
She smiled. "You're welcome. But if it hadn't been for the others, I'd never have made it in time. Jeannine happened to see you being assaulted. She alerted us, and Harriet took the command of the operation."  
  
"Wow. The four of you really proved that women do stand their ground in combat." He gave her half a flyboy-grin.  
  
She just kept smiling, holding onto him.  
  
Claire cleared her throat and, with a shaky smile on her lips, stepped over to them. "I'd like to quickly look you over, all of you, just to make sure no one's been hurt."  
  
"Go ahead, doctor," Harm smiled.  
  
Claire examined his bruises and decided he had a slight concussion, but nothing broken. Bud's stump was a little red and swollen from the blows, but Claire considered it safe to put the prosthesis back on if he promised to let someone help him when he stood. Fred had a tiny cut on his throat where Gonzalez had pointed his saber. But it had already started to clot. Harriet, in her state, luckily hadn't been involved in any real violence. She just had to promise to Claire to take it easy for the next days. Mac didn't show any signs of injury, either. Relieved, all left the boathouse and Claire started to look for Jeannine in order to examine her as well. As she walked over to where the cadet was finishing her work by gagging one of the guards with her handkerchief, Mac motioned for Claire to stop, making sure they wouldn't be overheard.  
  
"Uhm... Claire, could I ask you a favor?" she began uneasily.  
  
Claire's eyebrows went up a notch. "Sure. What's up?"  
  
"Do you have your med bag around?"  
  
"Back at Fred's, at the college, yes."  
  
"Could I drop by for a minute once we're back, in private, to get something checked out?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Just then Jeannine walked up to them. Mac decided she'd tell Claire when they were alone and, upon mutual agreement, she quickly set off for the college to get help. The others carried the motionless guards into the boathouse and tried to brush the dirt off their dress uniforms. Only then did they start to walk back to the college.  
  
Mac had been running all the way across the sand, feeling the urge to tire herself down to be able to digest the recent events. When she finally arrived at the campus gate, she was panting heavily and her uniform was all but in order. She quickly approached the Marine corporal.  
  
"Have some people sent over to the boathouse half a mile south of the 'Driftwood' café," she ordered in boot-camp voice. "There's two dead and four ready to be taken in custody."  
  
The corporal just eyed her from head to toe. "And you would be...?" he said superbly.  
  
After the day's events, Mac's patience was almost non-existent. She drew herself up to full height, took off her cadet's cover and hairpin, quickly shaking her head, and said very pointedly: "Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Catherine Mackenzie, United States Marine Corps, Chief of Staff to the U.S. Navy's Judge Advocate General."  
  
The corporal smiled. "Sure. And I'm the Secretary of Defense."  
  
At this, Mac lost it. She pulled out her dog tags, slammed them on the counter in front of the guard and, with a killing stare, shouted: "Get me MP reinforcements, Corporal. ASAP!"  
  
The corporal jumped, took a look at Mac's dog tags, blanched visibly, came to attention and shouted: "Yes, ma'am, Colonel Mackenzie, ma'am!" Then, shaking, he quickly grabbed the receiver of his base telephone and executed her order.  
Sun, June 21st 1940 ZULU Fred's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
Fear made Mac clutch the seam of her uniform skirt as she sat and waited for Claire to finish her tests. She had had a certain suspicion for several days now, ever since her menstruation hadn't set in as punctually as it normally did. Mac would never have worried about a delay of a day or two, but taking the pill, she had always been able to rely on her body to function like clockwork. She always started taking the hormones on Tuesdays, stopped on Mondays and was sure to be due for her menstruation the following Thursday morning. So it worried her that this time, for the first time in years, on Sunday morning there was still no sign of it. For three days she had pushed it away from her thoughts, the investigation being much more important. But now that they seemed to have accomplished their official task, the gnawing uncertainty had come back and she was glad Claire was there to release her from her state of hanging - one way or the other.  
  
As soon as she had made sure that the MPs were underway, Mac had called Webb and had briefed him about the latest events. He had instantly sent his people to arrest Alvarez and any possible accomplices that would come up during the interrogation. Other MPs had been sent to take care of Pedro Godoy and question the Gonzalezes' other cousins. Hopefully, a hint at who'd killed Meryl Waters would now be within reach, too.  
  
Clay had sung high praise about the discovery of the diary and had mentioned some document the Secnav must have sent to Harm... He had sounded rather strange as he had hinted at the topic, and he had quickly passed on to another one, once he had realized that she didn't know what he had been talking about. Well, she'd ask Harm later on. But it really seemed that they were finally done with this game of hide-and-seek.  
  
Mac had butterflies in her stomach at the thought of being able to return into Harm's waiting arms - well, at least privately. On the other hand, she was astonished to feel a slight pang at the thought that she had to leave college life, too. The past few weeks had provided her with an insight into what her youth could have been, had she been born into the 'right' family. She was going to miss the fun. And she was going to miss the music. Who'd have guessed?  
  
And now there was this other thing looming over her future. 'We'll take one step at a time and let everything develop slowly,' she remembered Harm telling her in Venice. They'd done great so far. Everything had come up at the right time, they had adjusted to their new relationship with ease. By the by, each of them had dropped little bits of emotional baggage as they carried on down the road.  
  
If her suspicion were proven right, would Harm be ready to face the full consequences of what it meant, and would he do it from the heart, not from a mere sense of honor and duty? Mac sighed heavily and kept counting the seconds, imagining that her stomach had to be completely made of knots by now. After what seemed an eternity to her, although in reality it had been only fourteen minutes and twenty-eight seconds, Claire came back into the room, slightly smiling and obviously unsure how to talk to the colonel.  
  
Mac saw her expression and felt her throat go dry. "Just tell me the verdict, Claire. No beating around the bush."  
  
Claire cleared her throat. "Well, Mac... I don't know if this is the way you feel about it right now, but all I have to say is: congratulations."  
  
Closing her eyes, Mac felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over her in an instant. Her first thought was: 'Run and hide!' But then a second thought made its way to her conscious, filling her with sudden warmth. Unbeknownst to her, a smile began to slowly spread over her face as she let Claire's words sink in. 'This is it,' she realized with wonder. 'Right here, under your very heart, you carry Harm's child. A child of your love.'  
  
She looked up at Claire whose smile had brightened at her reaction. "I don't really know what I should feel right now," Mac confessed in a low, confused voice that yet carried audible traces of her smile. "You know, Claire, I was so sure it couldn't happen. I'm on the pill. But I think I forgot that I'd been sick due to the concussion I suffered when I fell during my first band rehearsal and hit my head on my drum. Throwing up must have lessened the effect of the hormones."  
  
Claire decided she'd take the plunge. "It's Harm's, isn't it?" she asked quietly.  
  
"Yeah," Mac said with a far-away smile on her face as she remembered the night the child must have been conceived. Or the following day, for that matter...  
  
"How do you think he'll take it?" the younger woman ventured carefully.  
  
Mac let out a low chuckle, studying her hands and fighting with her emotions. "I guess 'shock' wouldn't quite describe it. But I'm rather sure that once he's gotten used to the idea he'll be on cloud nine. After all, we did have that deal..."  
  
"What deal?" Claire's voice showed traces of curiosity as she sat down on the couch beside her friend.  
  
Mac hesitated for a moment, but then thought she might as well tell her. "Don't laugh, okay?"  
  
Claire gave her a puzzled smirk. "Okay..."  
  
"Well, when Bud and Harriet's son AJ, our godson, was born four years ago," Mac again smiled at the recollection, "Harriet didn't make it to the hospital in time and actually gave birth in Chegwidden's office, the admiral playing the best midwife I've ever seen."  
  
"No!" Claire gasped in amazement, making Mac chuckle.  
  
"Yes, believe me. Anyway, when we'd finally gotten her and Bud in an ambulance together with their son, Harm and I watched them leave and I started musing about my biological clock. That's when he offered that we'd go on halves on a kid in five years if neither of us were in a serious relationship. I accepted. That's it." Mac looked at her friend to see her stare at her in utmost bewilderment.  
  
"You're kidding."  
  
"Nope."  
  
"But you've been together for quite some time, then?"  
  
"Nope." Mac's grin was steadily growing.  
  
Claire shook herself from her shock. "Okay, now we're going to straighten out some details!" she said in a tone that would have made a drill sergeant proud. "Just what's going on between the two of you?"  
  
By now Mac was openly laughing. "It's been a little more than three months, to be exact. It took me almost marrying someone else I didn't love and him almost dying in a plane crash at sea plus another two years to get back to our friendship before we finally had the guts to face our seven years of history and get it right."  
  
Claire silently counted backwards. "Venice..." she finally said.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Does anyone know yet?"  
  
"You do now. And Harm's parents. And Jeannine. She put two and two together when she saw that I carry a picture of Harm in my wallet."  
  
"Fred's been suspecting something ever since his first day at JAG," Claire admitted with a grin. "He said you were kind of emanating an aura."  
  
Mac laughed at her statement. "Well, if he can keep secrets you might let slip that he was right. I guess, things being as they are, it won't stay a secret for too long anyway. We'll have to come up with some solution quickly, concerning the regs," she added with a frown.  
  
"Mac," Claire said soothingly, taking her hand as she sensed her friend's discomfort, "Don't try to create the world in one day when even God needed six to do it. First get used to the idea that you and Harm will have a family. That's a wonderful thing. Then break the news to the future daddy. Then wrap up this case as quickly as possible. And then I'll allow you to think about regulations, okay? I'm your obstetrician, I'm in the position to order you now, Colonel. That is... if you'd like me to do the job," she added, a little unsure.  
  
Mac's smile was one of genuine gratefulness. "I'd love that, Claire," she said, squeezing the younger woman's hand.  
  
Walking over to her quarters, Mac decided she wouldn't need Pat O'Hara anymore. Her dress whites were stained anyway. How on earth did Harm and the other squids succeed to keep them white whatever they did? Not that it concerned her now. She'd told Harriet to bring her dress blues, just in case. So tonight she'd step onto that stage in the uniform she was proud of. Uniform. Mac gasped when a picture invaded her mind, a picture of herself in a maternity uniform. 'How will Harm take it?' she asked herself, feeling a little frightened. Rationally she was sure he would be rapturous. But emotionally she still had difficulties to fully trust her luck. What if he backed away? Not from his responsibility. He'd never let her down. But emotionally, if he didn't feel up to the task... 'Oh God, please, don't let that happen!' she silently prayed.  
  
She knew he'd immediately ask her to marry him. But initially he had begged her to be patient for a little while until he felt he could ask her properly. She didn't want him to rush it now because he considered it a question of honor. She wanted him to ask of his own free will. But that wouldn't be an option anymore, once he learnt of her state. Why hadn't she just been more careful?  
  
Mac was so lost in thoughts when she entered her apartment that at first she didn't notice the person that was quietly sitting on the couch. Only as he rose Mac jumped and froze, instantly switching to Marine-mode.  
  
"Pablo, what are you doing here? How did you get into my room?"  
  
Pablo, with the hint of a thin smile, approached her. "I have my ways, sweetheart."  
  
Mac decided she didn't like the sound of his voice and prepared for a possible attack. But Pablo just stopped in front of her. "You wanted war, Colonel Mackenzie, you got it," he stated simply. "You know, I did care for you. As did Maribel for your commander. But I guess that's our problem now. Your problem is gonna be a little different: facing our revenge."  
  
With that he quickly pulled his hand out of his pocket and lunged at Mac. She was quick to parry his blow, but not quick enough. She felt a stinging pain in her side, and only moments later started to feel dizzy. She swayed, lost her footing and fell to the ground, hitting her temple hard at the edge of the coffee table.  
  
Pablo, with a sad smile, held up a syringe. "Insulin," he said quietly. "Overdose. All I gotta do now is prevent you from getting to your sweets as long as you'd still be able to eat. Shouldn't be too long now." He grabbed Mac and dragged her onto the couch, applying an amazing amount of strength to the Marine that already wasn't quite able to defend herself anymore.  
  
"You were the one who killed Meryl, weren't you?" she managed to ask in a hoarse voice while her vision began to swim. 'Harm!' she silently, desperately called out, knowing he'd never make it in time. How would he know she needed him? And Jeannine, the only one who was likely to come to the apartment, would be being questioned right now and not likely to show up. 'Harm, I need your help!'  
  
"Good thinking, Colonel," Pablo replied coldly. "The family couldn't let Meryl run around and ruin our business. Whereas with you... consider it my personal revenge for betraying me the way you did, Patricia. I couldn't believe it when Maribel told me this morning."  
  
But his last remark already went unnoticed by Mac who'd by now lost consciousness. Pablo just sat by and watched, smiling his thin, sad smile.  
Same time Outside House Mistral Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
Once Harm had written down her testimony, Jeannine had been dismissed to prepare herself for the concert. Relieved that the horror she was going through might shortly come to an end, she had immediately set off for her apartment, hoping she might be able to even take a little nap before having to prepare for leaving.  
  
When she arrived at her dorm, she was astonished to find Maribel Gonzalez standing in front of the entrance, obviously waiting for her. Jeannine chose to ignore her and tried to get past her to reach the door. But Maribel stepped in the way, glaring at the petite blonde in front of her.  
  
"No way you're going in there right now, Cadet."  
  
Jeannine had a feeling of alarm. "What's up?" She stared back.  
  
"My brother needs to finish something."  
  
Hearing that remark, Jeannine inwardly snapped to red alert. "Let me through!" she yelled, trying to push the tall woman away. She had to get to Mac!  
  
Maribel only laughed, standing her ground. "I told you, no way you're going in there right now."  
  
'Damn sure I am,' Jeannine thought grimly and, thinking of how Mac would probably handle this, she decided she'd either do it or die trying. Tightly clenching her fist, never breaking the eye contact with Maribel, Jeannine said, deadly calm: "Let - me - pass."  
  
"Go to hell."  
  
"Go yourself." With that, a quick, well-aimed right cross hit Maribel to the classic knockout point under her chin. The tall woman went down without so much as an 'ouch'.  
  
Jeannine sped up the stairs, found her door half open and froze at the sight of Pablo sitting calmly beside an obviously unconscious Mac. 'God, don't let it happen again!' Jeannine prayed as she, trembling, sneaked into her room, unseen by Pablo, and instantly dialed Harm's cell-phone number on her telephone.  
  
"Rabb?"  
  
"Commander, it's Jeannine," she whispered agitatedly.  
  
Harm had immediately detected the fear in her voice. "What's up, Cadet?"  
  
"Pablo's trying to kill Mac!"  
  
She heard Harm gasp. "Where are you?"  
  
"Our apartment."  
  
Harm didn't even acknowledge her response. Jeannine just heard the line go dead and prayed that Mac would hang on until he arrived. In the meantime, she desperately thought about a plan to save her friend without being taken down by Pablo first. Not that she feared the situation - but attempts at heroism wouldn't be of any help right now. And she knew she didn't have the hint of a chance against the broad-shouldered Columbian.  
  
But a loud noise of wood cracking and splintering saved her from further actions. Jeannine just watched as Harm, closely followed by Fred, entered the apartment, having forced the door. Both officers were tightly clutching their guns, instantly pointing them at Pablo whose expression conveyed utmost shock. This wasn't supposed to happen.  
  
As Harm saw his Marine lying motionless on the couch, he lost it completely. He ran over and, in no time, had a dumbfounded Pablo pinned beneath him. He could see the utmost fear in the young man's eyes as he put his gun to Pablo's temple.  
  
"You bastard!" Harm shouted, his voice shaking. "What did you do to her?"  
  
Pablo didn't respond but just stared back at the tall commander who right now held Pablo's life in his hands.  
  
"Answer me!" Harm cried, forcefully nudging the weapon against the Columbian's head.  
  
Fred thought it wise to intervene. Otherwise Harm might do something that he might regret for the rest of his life. Quickly joining him, he knelt down and, meeting Harm's wild glare, said as calmly as he could: "I'll take care of him now, sir. You get the Colonel to the infirmary, I really suggest you do, sir!"  
  
Harm emerged from his daze, instantly got a clear picture of the situation and cast Fred a quick grateful look.  
  
Meanwhile Jeannine had noticed a small object that must have rolled under the coffee-table more or less from where Mac was lying. She instantly ran over, picked it up and recognized it as an empty insulin pen. "Oh God, sir," she blurted out, startling the officers, "She's had an insulin overdose. Hurry!"  
  
"Oh God..." Harm let Fred take the job of exercising a precise blow on Pablo's head to take him out and let Jeannine bind him like she had the kidnappers. He himself effortlessly lifted Mac to his arms and, running for his - her - life, carried her to the infirmary.  
  
"She's had an insulin overdose, get a glucose IV ready, ASAP!" he shouted to the first nurse they came across. Seeing the haunted look on Harm's ashen face, the woman didn't even think about arguing. She started to run down the corridor, in no time came back with a doctor and soon Mac had highly concentrated sugar trickling into her vein.  
  
Harm sat down beside Mac's bed, firmly holding on to her hand, not caring that the nurse shot him an odd look, thinking that this professor cared far too much about his student.  
  
Fred stood by quietly, his hand on Harm's shoulder, worried for both his friends who, in the short time he had known them, had already grown very close to him and Claire. And he was thanking God that it wasn't Claire lying there. He could only imagine what the commander had to be going through right now.  
  
Clearing her throat, the nurse stepped up to the bed, puzzled that the commander didn't seem to care that she saw him fraternize with one of his students. "Uhm... sir, I need the cadet's name and a few other things for the register."  
  
Harm's eyes were blank when he looked up at her, never releasing Mac's hand. The nurse, against her better judgment, began to feel pity for him. "Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, United States Marine Corps, Chief of Staff to the U.S. Navy's JAG," Harm said tonelessly and instantly turned his focus back to Mac who still didn't show any sign of awakening yet.  
  
The nurse all but dropped her pad. "Excuse me, sir?" she asked hoarsely.  
  
Fred sensed that Harm needed to be with Mac, entirely. So he gently took the woman's arm and led her to the other end of the room.  
  
"Uhm, Ensign.... Carter," he read her name tag, "You heard the commander right. The colonel's been conducting an undercover investigation in the college. You might find her in your students list as Cadet Second Year Patricia O'Hara. She's been the commander's working partner for more than seven years now. That's why they're so close."  
  
Ensign Carter gulped down her astonishment and, instead of asking for details, interviewed Fred about the necessary data she needed. The task finished, she looked at the couple. "I guess we might let them have some privacy then, sir," she said softly. "If everything goes well she should wake up soon."  
  
Fred gave her a small grateful smile and led her outside.  
  
Harm was sitting motionless at Mac's side, silently praying. He couldn't lose her now. What would his life be without her? The same void it had been until Venice. And an eternal torment, knowing they could have been together, had she lived. 'God, no, please, don't do this to me!' he pleaded frantically.  
  
He jumped when he suddenly felt her hand slightly return his squeeze.  
  
"Mac?"  
  
"Harm... what..." her strained voice trailed off.  
  
Fighting down his tears of relief, Harm bent over her, softly kissing her forehead. "Hang on, Marine," he whispered, not trusting his voice.  
  
Mac, through her slowly fading daze, forced her eyes to focus on the face above her. "Harm..."  
  
"I'm here, honey, I'm right here," he said soothingly, stroking her head.  
  
"What happened? Pablo..."  
  
Harm swallowed at the thought of what might have happened, hadn't Jeannine been quick enough to get to him. Both of them now owed their lives to that incredibly brave girl, he realized.  
  
"Jeannine was the one to save you. Again," he softly told her. "She returned in time to find Pablo at your apartment and called me on my cell- phone."  
  
Mac felt him shudder briefly. With the glucose IV nearing its end, her world quickly came into focus again. 'Thank God hypoglycemia has no further lasting effects,' she thought. Still feeling a little groggy, she nevertheless managed to slowly sit up and hug him tightly.  
  
Harm held on to her as if his life depended on it. "My Marine, so near to losing you once again..." Was that a sob? She wondered.  
  
"It's over now, flyboy," she whispered soothingly, "I'm with you. But you could do me a favor..."  
  
He pulled back and, for the first time, allowed himself a slight smile. "Anything, Sarah."  
  
She smiled back, quickly coming back to her normal self now as the glucose began to work in her body. "Give me something else to think about, something totally unrelated to this damn case and something that'll make me happy. Can you come up with something of the sort?" She looked at him challengingly.  
  
Harm decided that, although he had planned everything a little differently, this would nevertheless be the right moment to get his plan to work. He'd come too close to losing her once again. Gently lowering her to her pillow, he reached into the inside pocket of his dress whites and, with an enigmatical smile, handed her an official-looking envelope.  
  
"I think I might just be up to the task. You able to read, Marine?" he only asked.  
  
Quizzically raising her eyebrows at him, she only nodded and unfolded the letter.  
  
Subject: Regarding Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, both assigned to the Judge Advocate General Corps  
  
Answering to a special request ventured by Undersecretary of State Clayton Webb, referring to a wish expressed by the USN Judge Advocate General, Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden, I declare that the senior lawyer team assigned to JAG Headquarters, Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., USN, and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, USMC, receive the guarantee not to be obliged to change designator, regardless of whatever facts might suggest the necessity.  
  
Any event or situation whatsoever that is connected to Cmdr. Rabb and Lt. Col. Mackenzie and might cause conflict with chain-of-command regulations is to be considered of minor importance. In the interest of achieving continuity, regarding thoroughly conducted investigations and carefully researched and successfully argued court-martials, JAG Headquarters must not be deprived of its most efficient and successful personnel who set an example of excellent work to the entire JAG staff.  
  
Signed, Secretary of the Navy Nelson, Department of Defense  
  
Mac had to read the letter twice before the full meaning of the words hit her. Unable to utter a syllable, she stared at the sheet, her hands starting to tremble. "Clay..." she finally managed to say, still not looking up.  
  
"Yeah..." she heard her partner acknowledge softly.  
  
Mac swallowed and turned her head in Harm's direction - and her heart skipped several beats.  
  
Harm was holding his hand out to her, palm up, and on it lay a simple, stunningly beautiful diamond solitaire. Mac's eyes switched back and forth between the ring and Harm's face, needing a few moments to put two and two together. As she noticed that her partner's expression was getting increasingly frightened the longer she was hesitating, she finally allowed herself to let out the breath that had caught in her throat. Tears were starting to form in her eyes but she didn't mind. A radiant smile broke through her puzzled frown.  
  
"Harm... do you... I mean..."  
  
Having already seen his dreams dissolve at her hesitation, Harm now dared to hope. He cleared his throat and in a very low voice said: "I told you I'd ask properly, didn't I? So here goes: Sarah, will you marry me?"  
  
A sob prevented her from answering immediately, but she gulped it down and, slowly extending her left hand in his direction, palm down, replied in a shaky voice: "With all my heart, Harm."  
  
As he gently took her hand in his, Mac could feel that he was trembling. Seemingly in awe about what they had just agreed upon, he slowly slid the ring on her finger. Then he looked up at her again, not knowing what to say.  
  
"It's beautiful, Harm," Mac whispered, studying the ring.  
  
"It's Grandma Sarah's," he replied. "She told me long ago to ask for it, should I ever find a woman I could love as much as she loved my granddad. Mom would always keep it for me 'cause Gram said it could be sent quicker from where they live than from where she does, in case it had to be a quick delivery. There isn't any UPS office or something in Beallsville and Gram doesn't trust Postal services in the rural area she lives in. Anyway, when I told my mom to send the ring over, she gave a scream that half of La Jolla must have heard." He chuckled slightly, avoiding her eyes and studying their entwined hands instead.  
  
Mac felt overwhelming relief flood through her veins. All her fears that his commitment would be one of responsibility, not of love, had vanished in an instant. Now she couldn't wait to give him the news of their baby... Oh God. With all that had happened, the knowledge of her pregnancy had completely slipped from her mind. Nothing too surprising, given the fact that she'd only learned about it ten minutes prior to Pablo's assault. But what if anything had happened to their child?  
  
Harm looked up sharply as, all of a sudden, he felt her fingers clench around his. All color had drained from her face.  
  
"Mac! What's up?" Adrenaline instantly shot up high in his body.  
  
"Harm! Get me Claire, please, I need her right now!" Mac's voice was shaking.  
  
Not taking the time to ask, he jumped to his feet and hurried out of the room, fate being kind to him, as he saw Fred and his fiancée walk up the corridor just as he wanted to start running to their quarters.  
  
"Claire! Come in quickly," he shouted, "Mac needs you!"  
  
Claire instantly sped to Mac's bedside, Fred close in her tracks.  
  
Mac looked up to her with an expression of utmost dread. "Claire," she whispered, "Can insulin do any harm? Please, say it won't," she begged.  
  
Harm only looked frantically from one to the other, exchanging helpless looks with an equally clueless Fred. Harm felt he wanted to shake either of the women, to make them tell him what he obviously wasn't supposed to know. Was there a further threat that his Marine was hiding from him?  
  
Claire soothingly put one hand on Mac's head while she studied the data on the pad Ensign Carter had left at her bedside. Fred could tell his fiancée was inwardly tense, but eventually she seemed to relax. And even Harm managed to calm down as he finally saw a small smile appear on the young woman's face.  
  
"I don't think you need to worry, Mac," she said gently. "You've been enormously lucky, sure, but you know, when a person loses consciousness, that means that the body tries to focus on keeping the essential parts alive. And growing life is as essential as anything. At least to nature. Everything should be fine. We'll do some tests tomorrow, if you like. But I want you to relax, okay?"  
  
Mac only swallowed and nodded, her face by now mirroring Claire's smile.  
  
Harm sat thunderstruck. "Did you..." his voice caught in his throat. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Claire, did you just say what I think you said or does what I think you just said mean what I think it does or..." he stopped, lost.  
  
At that, Mac burst out laughing, Fred and Claire immediately joining in. Harm's expression was hilarious.  
  
"Hey, tell me!" he protested.  
  
Claire managed to get a grip. "You heard me right, Harm," she said with a slight chuckle. "In a little less than nine months you're gonna be a daddy."  
  
Harm looked at Mac, dumbfounded. "But didn't you say..."  
  
She smiled back, just a little unsure about how to interpret his reaction. "I... well, I forgot that I had been sick when I had that concussion, remember? The first band rehearsal..."  
  
For a few more moments Harm just stared. Fear was beginning to rise in Mac's eyes. But then, all of a sudden, Harm jumped to his feet, grabbed his cover, tossed it in the air and, catching it, shouted: "I'm gonna be a dad!!!"  
  
His reaction caused new, relieved fits of laughter. Harm, cheeks flushed with excitement, beaming radiantly, sat down again at Mac's bedside, taking her hand. "Thanks, Mac," he said, overwhelmed. He looked at his fiancée, whose cheeks were rosy with excitement as well and whose dark eyes were sparkling. He just couldn't get over how lucky he was.  
  
Her glance was one of pure joy. "Thanks to you, flyboy," she softly answered, "For keeping your promise."  
  
"It hasn't been five years, yet," he reminded her with a smirk, "But I think we make it count. What do you say, Colonel?"  
  
"Absolutely." With that she let herself be drawn into a tight embrace.  
  
Suddenly she heard Claire gasp sharply. They broke apart and looked up, curious.  
  
"Mac! Is that an engagement ring you're wearing?" Claire asked, incredulous.  
  
"Yup!" Mac answered gleefully.  
  
"Congratulations, sir!" Fred patted Harm on the back, grinning widely, determining not to wonder about anything those two superiors of his would come up with. Later would be enough time to clear the details.  
  
"Thanks, Fred," Harm said with a heartfelt sigh. "Took me long enough. Speaking of long enough," he added, glancing at his watch, "We have to get ready. In half an hour we have to leave on our bus trip to Carnegie hall. I've got a concert to conduct, remember?"  
  
"Claire," Mac's voice had a decidedly begging tone. "This will most probably be the one and only occasion in my life that I get to play on stage at Carnegie Hall. Can I go, please?"  
  
"I'd never thought you'd even be as wise as to ask," Claire stated, caught off guard. Harm and Fred just stared at the suddenly all too reasonable colonel. Claire went on: "From what I heard you do what you want, anyway. But as you did ask and if you promise to be a good girl and take it easy: yes, Colonel, you may go."  
  
"Then let's not keep them waiting," Mac replied with a huge grin as she allowed Harm to support her while she climbed out of bed, utterly surprising him for the second time in one minute with this new, docile attitude of hers.  
  
'Obviously motherhood works miracles...' Fred thought by himself, hiding his knowing grin.  
2148 ZULU Harm's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.  
"Ma'am, sir, I'm so happy for you, so happy!" Harriet's cheeks were flushed with excitement as she tightly hugged Mac.  
  
"But, excuse me, sir," Bud carefully asked Harm, "Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy for you and the colonel, but what about the regs? What if Singer..."  
  
"Don't worry, Bud. All settled. Read this." Harm good-naturedly handed him the Secnav's letter and watched his junior officer's eyes go wide as he read.  
  
"Wow... sir, this is... how did you... I mean..." he stopped, lost.  
  
Harm chuckled. "Webb," he said simply. At that, a grin slowly spread over Bud's face.  
  
Harriet stepped up to her husband and peeped over his shoulder. "Oh my God!!!" she only exclaimed and motioned Fred and Claire to come and read as well.  
  
"Ma'am, sir, I don't know Agent Webb too well, but from what you told me about how he normally acts... well, I guess he felt he really did owe you this time," Fred stated with a smile.  
  
"Seems so," Mac answered, smirking. "But now we've got a mere ten minutes left to get ready and get to the plaza. What did the MPs do about Pablo? And, God, Harm, did you contact Cadet First Year Hannah Brown? We'll need her clarinet! Pablo's not gonna play."  
  
"I'm beginning to get sick of clarinets," Harm murmured as he instantly rushed over to the telephone. "Cadet Stiller? Can you give me the number of Cadet First Year Hannah Brown? I need to... oh, you already called her... you, what?"  
  
Grinning, Harm covered the receiver and hissed to his friends: "Listen to this: when tied up Pablo and called the MPs, the first thing she did was ask for access to his apartment to retrieve his Goodman scores and then call Cadet Brown!" He tried to swallow his astonished laughter and turned back to the telephone.  
  
"Yes, Cadet?... She's up to it? Great... good work, Cadet! See you in ten... yes, she's fine... yes, she's gonna play, hypoglycemia doesn't last long if you get enough sugar back into the system... yeah... I see... I'll do that. Mac sends you her love. Bye, Cadet Stiller." Harm put the receiver down and grinned contently. "Everything's under control."  
  
Mac turned to Harriet. "Harriet, I'm feeling okay, but just in case, I... uhm... I might need you while I take a little express shower. I have to, ran too much to get back and get help. Just be present in the bathroom, just in case I get dizzy, okay?"  
  
"Sure, ma'am," Harriet complied. "I've got your dress blues ready. Got them from the car and brought them here while you were out of it."  
  
"Thanks, Harriet." Then Mac turned to the rest of the assembly. "I'm sure Harm's got a good clothes brush. See that you get your dress whites in order, people. I still don't get it how you manage to keep them clean when you're wearing them, especially with today's events. I had mine covered with something the minute I put them on."  
  
Harm grinned a little nastily. "It's a Navy thing, Mac."  
  
"Jerk!" With a laugh she vanished into the bathroom while Harm, Fred, Bud and Jeannine busied themselves to brush the traces of the day's events off their clothes. Harm had a stain of dried blood on the collar from his initial injury. But with a little cold water from the sink, Claire managed to clean it off almost completely. Bud's uniform trousers were a little stained where the kidnappers had previously kicked his stump. But in this particular case it was even lucky that the trousers hung loosely around his prosthesis. The dirt could pass for a shadow of a fold if you didn't look too closely. A button was missing from Fred's uniform jacket but as the Italian dress whites had the front buttons covered anyway, it wouldn't be noticed. Fred readjusted his royal blue sash so that it passed right over the missing button, thus keeping the jacket closed firmly. Only Claire had to replace her skirt with matching trousers as her climbing onto the boathouse roof had caused stains that wouldn't come out by simply brushing them. Fred quickly supplied the needed item from his quarters where she had left her luggage.  
  
Just then, Mac reemerged from the bathroom, clad in her usual dress blues, all herself again - finally! She approached Harm with her make-up case. "Flyboy... would you please see to my forehead?"  
  
Two minutes later, the six of them hurried to meet the rest of the band on the main plaza. Just before turning around the last corner, Harm gallantly held his arm out to Mac. "Ready for the show?" he asked her with a dashing flyboy-grin.  
  
"Let's go, sailor!" she only shot back, grinning, taking his arm. The other four, curious how everyone would react, let the couple walk in front.  
  
Cassandra was the first to see them. "Holy shit!!!" was all she exclaimed before staring with her mouth wide open.  
  
Instantly, the murmurs stopped and everyone turned in their direction. A faint 'thud' told of a bag that had just dropped to the floor somewhere. Harm and Mac smiled easily at the group as they approached.  
  
"Att... attention on deck!" Danny shouted half-heartedly. Everyone woke from their shock and snapped to attention. Harm thought the plaza had never been this quiet.  
  
"At ease. Cadets, I'm sorry we're a little late but, uh, something's come up that had to be taken care of first. I'm sorry, too, for the little game of hide-and-seek we had to play but my partner here..." he cast a brilliant smile at an equally smiling Mac, "Had to do a little research from the insiders' prospective. Nothing worth talking about, actually, you could call it routine in the end."  
  
At this, Jeannine started to desperately bite her lower lip, trying to stifle her laughter. She didn't know why Harm didn't tell the truth but he must have had a good reason for wanting to keep the Gonzalez affair quiet. And she agreed that the others didn't need to know about the nature of Meryl's death. She'd ask Mac for details after the concert, she decided.  
  
"Anyway," Harm went on, "As we're now finished with the investigation, I might as well present my partner to you. Cadets, I'd like you to meet Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Catherine Mackenzie, United States Marine Corps, Chief of Staff to the United States Navy's Judge Advocate General. And my fiancée," he added with a smile after a short pause.  
  
A sharp gasp, both from Cassandra and Dorothy, was the immediate answer.  
  
Harm went on: "I also want to welcome Cadet Brown as a regular member of the band now. You've done some of the rehearsals as have the other substitutes, but as Pablo Gonzalez asks you all to excuse him as he's suddenly ill..." Harm managed to look slightly grave for a moment, "You're the lucky one to step in, Cadet Brown. You feel up to the task?"  
  
"Yes, sir!" came the answer, along with a radiant beam, from the excited young girl.  
  
"Good. So I suggest we get on the bus and move. Is the colonel's drum already stored?"  
  
The students exchanged astonished glances at the prospect that the Chief of Staff at JAG would actually take her place in their band's back row.  
  
"I've seen to it, sir," Jeannine said immediately.  
  
"Thank you, Cadet Stiller. So, Cadets, this is it. How do you feel?" Harm asked cheerfully.  
  
No one dared to answer. He frowned. "It's not that I've grown a second head or something, is it? Just accept that Cadet O'Hara's wearing blue today, okay?"  
  
Slowly, the tension began to dissipate. Harm decided to try again and get his band into concert mood. "So, you up to the challenge, Cadets?"  
  
"Yes, sir!" all shouted in unison as they came to attention again, many of them hiding grins. 'Cute couple, Rabb and O'Hara...'  
Mon, June 22nd 0325 ZULU Carnegie Hall New York City, N.Y.  
Harm felt stunned, dazed, swept away... standing in the middle of a bright spotlight, he bowed to an enthusiastic audience that he couldn't see because, from the brightly-lit stage, the dark auditorium seemed just one enormous blackness devoid of any distinguishable forms. But he could hear people cheer and wildly clap their hands. All for him, in this one short moment. He savored it, letting a relieved, full-blown flyboy-grin grace his features, and then quickly stepped aside, gesturing to the musicians who, more than he, deserved the ovations for having performed one singular, perfect show.  
  
Lt. Cmdr. Laird had come to wish him luck before the concert, once again telling him about the many emails he had continuously been receiving from his students who seemed to very much like Harm's way of working with them. "You'll do just fine, sir," he had told him with a reassuring smile, slightly patting the back of a very pale and incredibly nervous Harm.  
  
What hadn't really helped Harm's stage fright, had been Laird's news that the Hall was completely sold out, as the city's administration had turned the college concert into a major social event, combined with fundraisings for several charitable institutions. Harm had been sure his knees would buckle when he stepped onto that stage. And seeing that Fred's face matched the color of his dress whites hadn't helped either.  
  
But eventually he'd realized that Fred, after all, was a professional musician. The moment the backstage door had been opened for the two of them to step on stage, the lieutenant had straightened his shoulders, taken a deep breath, put on a dashing smile and seemingly easily gone out into the lion's den. Harm had simply followed his example.  
  
While Fred had been doing the solo pieces, Harm had reveled in the secure feeling of sitting in the middle of a group, being a part of it. But as soon as he'd had to stand up and be the conductor, he'd thought he'd lose it. He'd instantly sought out Mac's reassuring glance - easy task, now that she was the only one in a blue uniform - and she'd helped him through the evening as she'd said she would.  
  
Mac had had the time of her life playing on that stage. Now that she finally didn't have to watch out for her cover anymore, she was as excited as any of the students. From her seat in the back that was raised slightly above the other rows, she had been able to face the auditorium from a slightly different angle and subsequently hadn't been blinded by the spotlights. She'd seen them all, sitting in the fourth row: Bud, Harriet, Claire, the admiral, Tiner, Sturgis and Bobbi, Webb, even Carolyn had flown in from Great Lakes. And next to her, to her utmost astonishment, she had detected Gunny Galindez who probably was on home leave right now. Then came Harm's parents, Sergei and... no, that couldn't be possible: Chloe with her father and grandmother! The admiral must have pulled some strings to have them all come. Mac hadn't seen Singer, though. Well, who cared?  
  
But most of the time Mac kept her eyes on Harm. Her fiancé. The father of her child. He had certainly acquired remarkable conducting skills by now and he succeeded to be enough of a professional to lead his musicians swiftly and never let them off the hook unless he wanted to. Often enough, though, Harm deliberately stepped aside to let his soloists lead the way just as they needed it for their parts. 'A gentleman even on stage,' Mac thought happily. He looked breathtaking in his dress whites, as always. And, with the help of his well-dosed smile, he succeeded in motivating the musicians ever more, up to the grand finale: Fred playing 'Stardust'. Mac leaned back in her seat, her left hand on her drum, subconsciously placing her right hand on her belly. She closed her eyes and finally allowed herself to be happy. Absolutely, unlimitedly, overwhelmingly happy.  
  
Just then, Harm motioned for Fred to step into the spotlight to bow. The young lieutenant's cheeks were flushed and his smile matched Harm's. 'They could pass for brothers,' Mac stated to herself. As Fred had joined Harm a little further to the side, it was Jeannine's turn to step forward. Mac could tell she was in her element. Beaming radiantly and firmly holding her flute in her right hand, Jeannine exercised an elegant courtesy and graced the whole audience with a carefully aimed look around. 'Another professional,' Mac thought, amused. She saw Chloe clapping wildly. It was quite natural that the very young and fragile-looking petite blonde must have especially impressed her with her gorgeous playing.  
  
Then Harm detected a little movement in the open doorway that led backstage. Lt. Cmdr. Peter Laird was enthusiastically applauding to his own band and to him, Harm, who had taken the spot he, Laird, should have been in tonight. Out of the impulse of a moment, Harm took three quick strides to join him and gently pulled him on stage before Laird realized what was happening to him.  
  
There he stood in the spotlight, embarrassedly bowing to a public that knew very well who he was - the magazines had been full of the event, telling the story why Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. had had to fill in once again for a concert. Laird bit his lip to control his commotion as, in the end, he got to have his dream come true - being on stage at Carnegie Hall - the dream he'd had to let go of when Wells had told him that Harm would take his place. Smiling, Harm motioned for Fred and Jeannine to get their instruments and retrieved his conductor's baton to put it into an overwhelmed Laird's hand. Then Harm sat down next to Jeannine, taking his guitar, and watched, more than a little touched, as Laird bit his lip once more to prevent it from quivering.  
  
The public settled down again and Laird, finally allowing himself to smile ever more, raised his baton and cued the band into the 'Da Capo' of everyone's favorite piece: 'Stardust'.  
  
'I am damn proud of you, squid!' Mac quickly wiped away a tear of commotion from the corner of her eye and, as Harm casually turned his head in her direction, mouthed: 'I love you!' It didn't matter anymore if anyone noticed.  
  
Down in the fourth row, AJ Chegwidden tried in vain to wipe his proud grin off his face. Although he suspected that his officers had gotten themselves into serious trouble more than once during this investigation, they seemed to have wrapped it up neatly, ready to be unpacked in court. And they had managed to do it quietly. Thinking of a rather particular letter that had arrived the other day from the Department of Defense, accompanied by a call from Webb, AJ appreciated even more that word of the affair hadn't leaked out.  
  
AJ had never let drop a single word in front of Nelson that he expected problems with chain-of-command regs regarding his senior team. In dealing with the Secnav, Webb had expressed AJ's wish of keeping Harm and Mac without so much as informing him, but for once in his life, AJ absolutely agreed with the unusual measures everyone's favorite spook had taken. Now that Harm and Mac had indeed succeeded in fulfilling their half of this extraordinary treaty by keeping Dwayne Myers out of the headlines, AJ dared to hope that he'd never have to face the decision that he'd been dreading for so many years now: keeping his most successful team or supporting his friends' personal happiness.  
  
He had been watching his protégés intently during the whole evening. Not a single glance, smile or wink that they'd exchanged had escaped his notice. Ever since Venice when he'd first had his suspicions, AJ had tried to make out signs that they had indeed gotten closer. But Rabb and Mackenzie were professionals. Their behavior in the office had been immaculate. And even outside the office he had waited in vain to stumble across any little display of personal involvement. But tonight all seemed different. With Mac's cover broken, there was no need whatsoever for them to conceal their relationship now, knowing that they were protected by an agreement with the Secnav himself. AJ's affectionate heart had warmed at the tenderness that was now displaying openly between his 'kids' - finally! 'Well, JAG's a family,' he happily stated to himself. 'I daresay it's time for a couple of grandchildren who don't bear the name of Roberts!'  
Epilogue Sat, August 1st 1635 ZULU Anglican Church, Campo San Vio Dorsoduro, Venice Italy  
As the last verse of the hymn was sung, Cadet Jeannine Stiller felt her stomach tighten. 'This is it,' she thought happily, 'Now we'll get the true happy end to this story!' When Mac had called her a few weeks ago and asked her to be her Maid of Honor, she had been unable to trust her ears. With a trembling voice she had accepted the honor, and her composure had been completely lost as Mac had gone on, asking her if she'd agree to lend her name to their unborn child, should it turn out to be a girl. Jeannine knew that this didn't mean that she were to become a godparent - this task fell upon the Lieutenants Roberts. But hearing Mac explain their choice of name, had made her cry with commotion: "If we're to have a girl, we would like to name her Patricia, after Harm's mother, and Jeannine, after the friend who saved both our lives during the assignment that we were in when the child was conceived. If you consent to it, Janni." She had gladly consented.  
  
Glancing at the girl standing next to her, she found her smiling back, quickly taking her hand and squeezing it in mutual happiness. Chloe Madison was just as excited as she was. A third hand was placed on top of theirs now: Harriet Sims-Roberts, Matron of Honor, tried to put into her squeeze all remainders of calm she might still possess. With a reassuring smile at the pale but beaming girls, she especially gave Jeannine the necessary feeling of confidence that she was up to the task that she was there to perform.  
  
A happy congregation had gathered in the small church on this sunny Venetian afternoon: the whole extended JAG family including Francesca, the Burnetts along with Grandma Sarah Rabb, Clayton Webb, Harm and Mac's friend Rear Admiral Salvatore Della Rosa, CO of the Venice Port Authority, their still closer friend from the Venice Police Department, Commissario Amedeo De Carlo, both accompanied by their wives. Captain Wells had flown in from New York, together with Lt. Cmdr. Peter Laird and his fiancée, and they had even brought the entire college band on an extended school trip to perform during the service. But the most beautiful surprise to Mac had been that AJ and Webb had managed to arrange a special leave for Colonel Matthew O'Hara who had led his niece down the aisle.  
  
At a sign from the priest, Jeannine now stepped closer to the altar. From the other side of the aisle, Sergei Zhukov, for this special occasion allowed to once again put on his Russian uniform, did the same. All looked over to the two figures in white standing in the center of attention, and they silently agreed that they'd rarely seen anything so touching.  
  
Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., just a little pale but smiling from the bottom of his heart, took both hands of his beautiful bride in his and listened as the priest spoke the words that were to change his life forever:  
  
"Do you, Harmon David, take Sarah Catherine to be your lawful wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honor and protect her, in good as in bad times, in wealthy as in poor days, in health as in sickness, till death do you part?"  
  
Seeing nothing else than Mac's loving glance, Harm took a deep breath and, with all the love and honesty that he possibly managed to put into his voice, softly but clearly answered: "I do."  
  
In the brief moment of silence that followed his vow, Harm took in the sight of his wife-to-be: Mac was in a simple long white dress without so much as a hint of any decorative elements besides the thin strips of lace that went around the hem of each short sleeve, and she had his mother's bridal veil attached to her beautifully pinned up hair at the back of her head. Her cheeks were flushed a little more than usual and an incredible amount of love was radiating from her huge dark eyes. 'Thank you, God, for letting me find such a treasure,' Harm thought, overwhelmed.  
  
Feeling all the warmth and tenderness that his smile conveyed to her, Mac, tears brimming in her eyes, looked at the tall man that stood in front of her in his dress whites, his gold wings in the right place as always. 'This is all you ever dreamed of, Sarah,' she silently told herself, her heart beating loud, 'Now prove to yourself and to God that you deserve it.' As the priest addressed her, she swallowed and subconsciously held her breath.  
  
"And do you, Sarah Catherine, take Harmon David to be your lawful wedded husband? Do you promise to love, honor and support him, in good as in bad times, in wealthy as in poor days, in health as in sickness, till death do you part?"  
  
Her glance never leaving his, Mac answered in a low but clear voice that rang with joy: "I do."  
  
The priest looked at Sergei who stepped up to him, holding a little cushion with the wedding bands. The handsome young Russian cast yet another shy glance at his petite blonde female counterpart and, not for the first time, received a quick blushing smile in return.  
  
"Take each other's rings as a visible sign of the bond between the two of you," the priest said.  
  
Harm took the smaller ring and, sliding it onto Mac's left hand, declared solemnly: "With this ring, I thee wed, with this heart, I thee worship." Mac, a moment later, repeated those exact words as she returned the gesture.  
  
The priest raised his hands and held them over the heads of the couple for the final blessings. "Through the power given to me by the Lord our Father and through the authority entrusted to me by the Republic of Italy, I declare you husband and wife. May man never meddle with what was joined by God."  
  
Sergei now turned to the congregation and with a loud and clear voice announced: "Ladies and gentlemen: Mr. and Mrs. Harmon Rabb, Jr.!" Then, following a very Rabb-ish impulse of the moment, he threw his cover high into the air with a Russian cheer that everyone - in their own languages - joined in.  
  
Upon a conspiratorial wink from the priest, Harm lifted the veil from Mac's face and brought his lips to hers in an exact replica of the chaste kiss they had first shared under the Bridge of Sighs, back in February. And once again, the kiss was to be the promise for so much more that was yet to follow in the many years to come.  
THE END  
  
A.N.: Many, many thanks to Kate for beta-reading! 


End file.
